GHRRETT 
H 


LIBRARY 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

SANTA  BARBARA 

PRESENTED  BY 

GARRETT  HARDIN 


<£</ 


THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS 


OF 


From  a.Fbotogra,ph"by  Claud  et 


THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS 


OF 


LOED  MACAULAY 


BY  HIS  NEPHEW 

G.  OTTO 

MEMBER   OF   PARLIAMENT  FOR   HAWICK   DISTRICT   OF   BURGHS 


IN  TWO  VOLUMES 
VOL.  I. 


NEW    YORK 

HARPER    &    BROTHERS,    PUBLISHERS 

FRANKLIN     SQUARE 

1876 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1875,  by 

HARFKB    &    BROTHERS, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


PEE  FACE. 


THIS  work  has  been  undertaken  principally  from  a  convic- 
tion that  it  is  the  performance  of  a  duty  which,  to  the  best  of 
my  ability,  it  is  incumbent  on  me  to  fulfill.  Though  even  on 
this  ground  I  can  not  appeal  to  the  forbearance  of  my  readers, 
I  may  venture  to  refer  to  a  peculiar  difficulty  which  I  have 
experienced  in  dealing  with  Lord  Macaulay's  private  papers. 

To  give  to  the  world  compositions  not  intended  for  publi- 
cation may  be  no  injury  to  the  fame  of  writers  who,  by  habit, 
were  careless  and  hasty  workmen ;  but  it  is  far  otherwise  in 
the  case  of  one  who  made  it  a  .rule  for  himself  to  publish 
nothing  which  was  not  carefully  planned,  strenuously  la- 
bored, and  minutely  finished.  Now,  it  is  impossible  to  ex- 
amine Lord  Macaulay's  journals  and  correspondence  without 
being  persuaded  that  the  idea  of  their  being  printed,  even  in 
part,  never  was  present  to  his  mind ;  and  I  should  not  feel 
myself  justified  in  laying  them  before  the  public  if  it  were 
not  that  their  unlabored  and  spontaneous  character  adds  to 
their  biographical  value  all,  and  perhaps  more  than  all,  that 
it  detracts  from  their  literary  merit. 

To  the  heirs  and  relations  of  Mr.  Thomas  Flower  Ellis  and 
Mr.  Adam  Black ;  to  the  Marquis  of  Lansdowne ;  to  Mr.  Mac- 


12  PREFACE. 

vey  Napier ;  and  to  the  executors  of  Dr.  Whewell,  my  thanks 
are  due  for  the  courtesy  with  which  they  have  placed  the  dif- 
ferent portions  of  my  uncle's  correspondence  at  my  disposal. 
Lady  Caroline  Lascelles  has  most  kindly  permitted  me  to  use 
as  much  of  Lord  Carlisle's  journal  as  relates  to  the  subject 
of  this  work ;  and  Mr.  Charles  Cowan,  my  uncle's  old  oppo- 
nent at  Edinburgh,  has  sent  me  a  considerable  mass  of  print- 
ed matter  bearing  upon  the  elections  of  1847  and  1852.  The 
late  Sir  Edward  Ryan,  and  Mr.  Fitzjames  Stephen,  spared  no 
pains  to  inform  me  with  regard  to  Lord  Macaulay's  work  at 
Calcutta.  His  early  letters,  with  much  that  relates  to  the 
whole  course  of  his  life,  have  been  preserved,  studied,  and  ar- 
ranged by  the  affectionate  industry  of  his  sister,  Miss  Macau- 
lay;  and  material  of  high  interest  has  been  intrusted  to  my 
hands  by  Mr.  and  the  Hon.  Mrs.  Edward  Cropper.  I  have 
been  assisted  throughout  the  book  by  the  sympathy  and  the 
recollections  of  Lady  Holland,  the  niece  to  whose  custody 
Lord  Macaulay's  papers  by  inheritance  descend. 

G.  O.  T. 
March,  1876. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

1800-1818. 

Plan  and  Scope  of  the  Work. — History  of  the  Macaulay  Family. — Aulay. — 
Kenneth. — Johnson  and  Boswell. — John  Macaulay  and  his  Children. — 
Zachary  Macaulay. — His  Career  in  the  West  Indies  and  in  Africa. — His 
Character. — Visit  of  the  French  Squadron  to  Sierra  Leone. — Zachary 
Macaulay's  Marriage. — Birth  of  his  Eldest  Son. — Lord  Macaulay's  Early 
Years. — His  Childish  Productions. — Mrs.  Hannah  More. — General  Mac- 
aulay.— Choice  of  a  School. —  Shelford. — Dean  Miluer. — Macaulay's 
Early  Letters. — Aspenden  Hall. — The  Boy's  Habits  and  Mental  Endow- 
ments.— His  Home. — The  Clapham  Set. — The  Boy's  Eelations  with  his 
Father. — The  Political  Ideas  among  which  he  was  brought  up,  and  their 
Influence  on  the  Work  of  his  Life Page  17 

CHAPTER  II. 

1818-1824. 

Macaulay  goes  to  the  University. — His  Love  for  Trinity  College. — His 
Contemporaries  at  Cambridge. — Charles  Austin. — The  Union  Debating 
Society. — University  Studies,  Successes,  and  Failures. — The  Mathemat- 
ical Tripos. — The  Trinity  Fellowship. — William  the  Third. — Letters. — 
Prize  Poems. — Peterloo. — Novel-reading. — The  Queen's  Trial. — Macau- 
lay's  Feeling  toward  his  Mother. — A  Reading-party. — Hoaxing  an  Edit- 
or.— Macaulay  takes  Pupils 78 

CHAPTER  III. 

1824-1830. 

Macaulay  is  called  to  the  Bar. — Does  not  Make  it  a  Serious  Profession. — 
Speech  before  the  Antislavery  Society. — Knight's  Quarterly  Magazine. — 
The  Edinburgh  Kevieiv  and  the  "Essay  on  Milton." — Macaulay's  Personal 


14  CONTENTS. 

Appearance  and  Mode  of  Existence. — His  Defects  and  Virtues,  Likings 
and  Antipathies. — Croker. — Sadler. — Zachary  Macaulay's  Circumstances. 
— Description  of  the  Family  Habits  of  Life  in  Great  Ormond  Street. — 
Macaulay's  Sisters. — Lady  Trevelyan. — "  The  Judicious  Poet." — Macau- 
lay's  Humor  in  Conversation. — His  Articles  in  the  Review. — His  Attacks 
on  the  Utilitarians  and  on  Southey. — Blackwooffa  Magazine. — Macaulay 
is  made  Commissioner  of  Bankruptcy. — Enters  Parliament. — Letters 
from  Circuit  and  Edinburgh Page  109 

CHAPTER  IT. 

1830-1832. 

State  of  Public  Affairs  when  Macaulay  entered  Parliament. — His  Maiden 
Speech. — The  French  Ee volution  of  July,  1830. — Macaulay's  Letters 
from  Paris. — The  Palais  Royal.— Lafayette. — Lardner's  Cabinet  "Cy- 
clopedia."— The  New  Parliament  Meets. — Fall  of  the  Duke  of  Welling- 
ton.— Scene  with  Croker. — The  Reform  Bill. — Political  Success. — House 
of  Commons  Life. — Macaulay's  Party  Spirit. — London  Society. — Mr. 
Thomas  Flower  Ellis. — Visit  to  Cambridge. — Rothley  Temple. — Mar- 
garet Macaulay's  Journal. —Lord  Brougham.— Hopes  of  Office. — Mac- 
anlay  as  a  Politician.— Letters  to  Lady  Trevelyan,  Mr.  Napier,  and  Mr. 
Ellis...  ..  148 


CHAPTER  Y. 

1832-1834. 

Macaulay  is  Invited  to  stand  for  Leeds. — The  Reform  Bill  passes. — Mac- 
aulay appointed  Commissioner  of  the  Board  of  Control. — His  Life  in  Of- 
fice.— Letters  to  his  Sister. — Contested  Election  at  Leeds. — Macaulay's 
Bearing  as  a  Candidate. — Canvassing. — Pledges. — Intrusion  of  Religion 
into  Politics. — Placemen  in  Parliament. — Liverpool. —  Margaret  Mac- 
aulay's Marriage. — How  it  Affected  her  Brother. — He  is  Returned  for 
Leeds. — Becomes  Secretary  of  the  Board  of  Control. — Letters  to  Lady 
Trevelyan. — Session  of  1832. — Macaulay's  Speech  on  the  India  Bill. — His 
Regard  for  Lord  Glenelg. — Letters  to  Lady  Trevelyan. — The  West  In- 
dian Question. — Macanlay  resigns  Office. — He  gains  his  Point,  and  re- 
sumes his  Place. — Emancipation  of  the  Slaves. — Death  of  Wilberforcr. — 
Letters  to  Lady  Trevelyan. — Macaulay  is  appointed  Member  of  the  Su- 
preme Council  of  India. — Letters  to  Lady  Trevelyan,  Lord  Lansdowne, 
and  Mr.  Napier. — Altercation  between  Lord  Althorp  and  Mr.  Sheil. — 
Macaulay's  Appearance  before  the  Committee  of  Investigation. — He  sails 
for  India...,  ..  227 


CONTENTS.  15 

CHAPTEK  VI. 

1834-1838. 

The  Outward  Voyage. — Arrival  at  Madras. — Macaulay  is  summoned  to 
join  Lord  William  Bentinck  in  the  Neilgherries. — His  Journey  Up-coun- 
try.— His  Native  Servant. — Arcot. — Bangalore. — Seringapatam. — As- 
cent of  the  Neilgherries. — First  Sight  of  the  Governor-general. — Letters 
to  Mr.  Ellis  and  the  Miss  Macaulays. — A  Summer  on  the  Neilgherries. — 
Native  Christians. — Clarissa. — A  Tragi-comedy. — Macaulay  leaves  the 
Neilgherries,  travels  to  Calcutta,  and  there  sets  up  House. — Letters  to 
Mr.  Napier  and  Mrs.  Cropper. — Mr.  Trevelyan. — Marriage  of  Hannah 
Macaulay. — Death  of  Mrs.  Cropper. — Macaulay's  Work  in  India. — His 
Minutes  for  Council — Freedom  of  the  Press. — Literary  Gratitude. — 
Second  Minute  on  the  Freedom  of  the  Press. — The  Black  Act. — A  Cal- 
cutta Public  Meeting. — Macaulay's  Defense  of  the  Policy  of  the  Indian 
Government. — His  Minute  on  Education. — He  becomes  President  of  the 
Committee  of  Public  Instruction. — His  Industry  in  discharging  the  Func- 
tions of  that  Post. — Specimens  of  his.  Official  Writing. — Results  of  his 
Labors. — He  is  appointed  President  of  the  Law  Commission,  and  recom- 
mends the  Framing  of  a  Criminal  Code. — Appearance  of  the  Code. — 
Comments  of  Mr.  Fitzjames  Stephen. — Macaulay's  Private  Life  in  India. 
— Oriental  Delicacies. — Breakfast-parties. — Macaulay's  Longing  for  En- 
gland.— Calcutta  and  Dublin. — Departure  from  India. — Letters  to  Mr. 
Ellis.  Mr.  Sharp,  Mr.  Napier,  and  Mr.  Z.  Macaulay Page  320 

APPENDIX...  ..  409 


LIFE  AND  LETTEKS 


LORD     MACAULAY, 


CHAPTER  I. 

1800-1818. 

Plan  aud  Scope  of  the  Work. — History  of  the  Macaulay  Family. — Aulay. — 
Keuneth. — Johnson  aud  Boswell. — John  Macaulay  and  his  Children. — 
Zachary  Macaulay. — His  Career  in  the  West  Indies  and  in  Africa. — His 
Character. — Visit  of  the  French  Squadron  to  Sierra  Leone. — Zachary 
Macaulay's  Marriage. — Birth  of  his  Eldest  Sou. — Lord  Macaulay's  Early 
Years. — His  Childish  Productions. — Mrs.  Haunah  More. — General  Mac- 
aulay.— Choice  of  a  School. —  Shelford. — Dean  Milner. — Macaulay's 
Early  Letters. — Aspenden  Hall. — The  Boy's  Habits  and  Mental  Endow- 
ments.— His  Home. — The  Clapham  Set. — The  Boy's  Relations  with  his 
Father. — The  Political  Ideas  among  which  he  was  brought  up,  aud  their 
Influence  on  the  Work  of  his  Life. 

HE  who  undertakes  to  publish  the  memoirs  of  a  distin- 
guished man  may  find  a  ready  apology  in  the  custom  of  the 
age.  If  we  measure  the  effective  demand  for  biography  by 
the  supply,  the  person  commemorated  need  possess  but  a  very 
moderate  reputation,  and  have  played  no  exceptional  part,  in 
order  to  carry  the  reader  through  many  hundred  pages  of  an- 
ecdote, dissertation,  and  correspondence.  To  judge  from  the 
advertisements  of  our  circulating  libraries,  the  public  curios- 
ity is  keen  with  regard  to  some  who  did  nothing  worthy  of 
special  note,  and  others  who  acted  so  continuously  in  the  face 

YOL.  I.— 2. 


18  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  i. 

of  the  world  that,  when  their  course  was  run,  there  was  little 
left  for  the  world  to  learn  about  them.  It  may,  therefore, 
be  taken  for  granted  that  a  desire  exists  to  hear  something 
authentic  about  the  life  of  a  man  who  has  produced  works 
which  are  universally  known,  but  which  bear  little  or  no  in- 
dication of  the  private  history  and  the  personal  qualities  of 
the  author. 

This  was  in  a  marked  degree  the  case  with  Lord  Macaulay. 
His  two  famous  contemporaries  in  English  literature  have, 
consciously  or  unconsciously,  told  their  own  story  in  their 
books.  Those  who  could  see  between  the  lines  in  "David 
Copperfield  "  were  aware  that  they  had  before  them  the  most 
delightful  of  autobiographies :  and  all  who  knew  how  to  read 
Thackeray  could  trace  him  in  his  novels  through  every  stage 
in  his  course,  on  from  the  day  when  as  a  little  boy,  consigned 
to  the  care  of  English  relatives  and  school-masters,  he  left  his 
mother  on  the  steps  of  the  landing-place  at  Calcutta.  The 
dates  and  names  were  wanting :  but  the  man  was  there ;  while 
the  most  ardent  admirers  of  Macaulay  will  admit  that  a  mi- 
nute study  of  his  literary  productions  left  them,  as  far  as  any 
but  an  intellectual  knowledge  of  the  writer  himself  was  con- 
cerned, very  much  as  it  found  them.  A  consummate  master 
of  his  craft,  he  turned  out  works  which  bore  the  unmistaka- 
ble marks  of  the  artificer's  hand,  but  which  did  not  reflect  his 
features.  It  would  be  almost  as  hard  to  compose  a  picture  of 
the  author  from  his  "  History,"  his  "  Essays,"  and  his  "  Lays," 
as  to  evolve  an  idea  of  Shakspeare  from  "  Henry  the  Fifth" 
and  "  Measure  for  Measure." 

But,  besides  being  a  man  of  letters,  Lord  Macaulay  was  a 
statesman,  a  jurist,  and  a  brilliant  ornament  of  society,  at  a 
tune  when  to  shine  in  society  was  a  distinction  which  a  man 
of  eminence  and  ability  might  justly  value.  In  these  several 
capacities,  it  will  be  said,  he  was  known  well,  and  known  wide- 
ly. But  in  the  first  place,  as  these  pages  will  show,  there  was 
one  side  of  his  life  (to  him,  at  any  rate,  the  most  important) 
of  which  even  the  persons  with  whom  he  mixed  most  freely 
and  confidentially  in  London  drawing-rooms,  in  the  Indian 
council  -  chamber,  and  in  the  lobbies  and  on  the  benches 


1800-'18.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  19 

of  the  House  of  Commons,  were  only  in  part  aware.  And  in 
the  next  place,  those  who  have  seen  his  features  and  heard  his 
voice  are  few  already,  and  become  yearly  fewer :  while,  by 
a  rare  fate  in  literary  annals,  the  number  of  those  who  read 
his  books  is  still  rapidly  increasing.  For  every  one  who  sat 
with  him  in  private  company  or  at  the  transaction  of  public 
business,  for  every  ten  who  have  listened  to  his  oratory  in 
Parliament  or  from  the  hustings,  there  must  be  tens  of  thou- 
sands whose  interest  in  history  and  literature  he  has  awak- 
ened and  informed  by  his  pen,  and  who  would  gladly  know 
what  manner  of  man  it  was  that  has  done  them  so  great  a 
service. 

To  gratify  that  most  legitimate  wish  is  the  duty  of  those 
who  have  the  means  at  their  command.  His  life-like  image 
is  indelibly  impressed  upon  their  minds  (for  how  could  it 
be  otherwise  with  any  who  had  enjoyed  so  close  relations 
with  such  a  man  ?),  although  the  skill  which  can  reproduce 
that  image  before  the  general  eye  may  well  be  wanting.  But 
his  own  letters  will  supply  the  deficiencies  of  the  biographer. 
Never  did  any  one  leave  behind  him  more  copious  materials 
for  enabling  others  to  put  together  a  narrative  which  might 
be  the  history,  not  indeed  of  his  times,  but  of  the  man  himself. 
For,  in  the  first  place,  he  so  soon  showed  promise  of  being  one 
who  would  give  those  among  whom  his  early  years  were  pass- 
ed reason  to  be  proud,  and  still  more  certain  assurance  that  he 
would  never  afford  them  cause  for  shame,  that  what  he  wrote 
was  preserved  with  a  care  very  seldom  bestowed  on  childish 
compositions  ;  and  the  value  set  upon  his  letters  by  those  with 
whom  he  corresponded  naturally  enough  increased  as  years 
went  on.  And,  in  the  next  place,  he  was  by  nature  so  incapa- 
ble of  affectation  or  concealment  that  he  could  not  write  oth- 
erwise than  as  he  felt,  and,  to  one  person  at  least,  could  never 
refrain  from  writing  all  that  he  felt ;  so  that  we  may  read  in 
his  letters,  as  in  a  clear  mirror,  his  opinions  and  inclinations, 
his  hopes  and  affections,  at  every  succeeding  period  of  his  ex- 
istence. Such  letters  could  never  have  been  submitted  to  an 
editor  unconnected  with  both  correspondents  by  the  strongest 
ties :  and  even  one  who  stands  in  that  position  must  often  be 


20  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  i. 

sorely  puzzled  as  to  what  lie  has  the  heart  to  publish  and  the 
right  to  withhold. 

I  am  conscious  that  in  an  undertaking  of  this  nature  a  near 
relative  has  peculiar  temptations  toward  that  partiality  of  the 
biographer  which  Lord  Macaulay  himself  so  often  and  so  cor- 
dially denounced  :  and  the  danger  is  greater  in  the  case  of  one 
whose  knowledge  of  him  coincided  with  his  later  years ;  for 
it  would  not  be  easy  to  find  a  nature  which  gained  more  by 
time  than  his,  and  lost  less.  But,  believing,  as  I  do  (to  use  his 
own  words),  that  "  if  he  were  now  living  he  would  have  suf- 
ficient judgment  and  sufficient  greatness  of  mind"  to  wish  to 
be  shown  as  himself,  I  will  suppress  no  trait  in  his  disposition 
or  incident  in  his  career  which  might  provoke  blame  or  ques- 
tion. Such  in  all  points  as  he  was,  the  world,  which  has  been 
so  indulgent  to  him,  has  a  right  to  know  him ;  and  those  who 
best  love  him  do  not  fear  the  consequences  of  freely  submit- 
ting his  character  and  his  actions  to  the  public  verdict. 

The  most  devout  believers  in  the  doctrine  of  the  transmis- 
sion of  family  qualities  will  be  content  with  tracing  back  de- 
scent through  four  generations :  and  all  favorable  hereditary 
influences,  both  intellectual  and  moral,  are  assured  by  a  gene- 
alogy which  derives  from  a  Scotch  manse.  In  the  first  decade 
of  the  eighteenth  century  Aulay  Macaulay,  the  great-grandfa- 
ther of  the  historian,  was  minister  of  Tiree  and  Coll ;  where 
he  was  "  grievously  annoyed  by  a  decreet  obtained  after  in- 
stance of  the  Laird  of  Ardchattan,  taking  away  his  stipend." 
The  Duchess  of  Argyll  of  the  day  appears  to  have  done  her 
best  to  see  him  righted :  "  but  his  health  being  much  impair- 
ed, and  there  being  no  church  or  meeting-house,  he  was  ex- 
posed to  the  violence  of  the  weather  at  all  seasons ;  and  hav- 
ing no  manse  or  glebe,  and  no  fund  for  communion  elements, 
and  no  mortification  for  schools  or  any  pious  purpose  in  either 
of  the  islands,  and  the  air  being  unwholesome,  he  was  dissat- 
isfied :"  and  so,  to  the  great  regret  of  the  parishioners  whom 
he  was  leaving  behind,  he  migrated  to  Harris,  where  he  dis- 
charged the  clerical  duties  for  nearly  half  a  century. 

Aulay  was  the  father  of  fourteen  children,  of  whom  one, 


1800-'18.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  21 

Kenneth,  the  minister  of  Ardnamiirchan,  still  occupies  a  very 
humble  niche  in  the  temple  of  literature.  He  wrote  a  "  His- 
tory of  St.  Kilda,"  which  happened  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  Dr. 
Johnson,  who  spoke  of  it  more  than  once  with  favor.  His 
reason  for  liking  the  book  is  characteristic  enough.  Mr.  Mac- 
aulay  had  recorded  the  belief  prevalent  in  St.  Kilda  that,  as 
soon  as  the  factor  landed  on  the  island,  all  the  inhabitants  had 
an  attack  which,  from  the  account,  appears  to  have  partaken 
of  the  nature  both  of  influenza  and  bronchitis.  This  touched 
the  superstitious  vein  in  Johnson,  who  praised  him  for  his 
"magnanimity"  in  venturing  to  chronicle  so  questionable  a 
phenomenon :  the  more  so  because,  said  the  doctor,  "  Mac- 
aulay  set  out  with  a  prejudice  against  prejudice,  and  wanted 
to  be  a  smart  moolern  thinker."  To  a  reader  of  our  day  the 
"  History  of  St.  Kilda  "  appears  to  be  innocent  of  any  trace  of 
such  pretension  ;  unless  it  be  that  the  author  speaks  slighting- 
ly of  second-sight,  a  subject  for  which  Johnson  always  had  a 
strong  hankering.  In  1773,  Johnson  paid  a  visit  to  Mr.  Mac- 
aulay,  who  by  that  time  had  removed  to  Calder,  and  began 
the  interview  by  congratulating  him  on  having  produced  "  a 
very  pretty  piece  of  topography  " — a  compliment  which  did 
not  seem  to  the  taste  of  the  author.  The  conversation  turned 
upon  rather  delicate  subjects,  and  before  many  hours  had  pass- 
ed the  guest  had  said  to  the  host  one  of  the  very  rudest  things 
recorded  by  Boswell.  Next  morning  he  atoned  for  his  inci- 
vility by  giving  one  of  the  boys  of  the  house  a  pocket  Sallust, 
and  promising  to  procure  him  a  servitorship  at  Oxford.  Sub- 
sequently Johnson  pronounced  that  Mr.  Macaulay  was  not 
competent  to  have  written  the  book  that  went  by  his  name : 
a  decision  which,  to  those  who  happen  to  have  read  the  work, 
will  give  a  very  poor  notion  of  my  ancestor's  abilities. 

The  eldest  son  of  old  Aulay,  and  the  grandfather  of  Lord 
Macaulay,  was  John,  born  in  the  year  1720.  He  was  minister 
successively  of  Barra,  South  Uist,  and  Inverary ;  the  last  ap- 
pointment being  a  proof  of  the  interest  which  the  family  of 
Argyll  continued  to  take  in  the  fortunes  of  the  Macaulays. 
He,  likewise,  during  the  famous  tour  in  the  Hebrides,  came 
across  the  path  of  Boswell,  who  mentions  him  in  an  exquis- 


22  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  I. 

itely  absurd  paragraph,  the  first  of  those  in  which  is  described 
the  visit  to  Inverary  Castle  on  October  25th.  Mr.  Macaulay 
afterward  passed  the  evening  with  the  travelers  at  their  inn, 
and  provoked  Johnson  into  what  Boswell  calls  warmth,  and 
any  one  else  would  call  brutality,  by  the  very  proper  remark 
that  he  had  no  notion  of  people  being  in  earnest  in  good  pro- 
fessions if  their  practice  belied  them.  When  we  think  what 
well-known  ground  this  was  to  Lord  Macaulay,  it  is  impossible 
to  suppress  a  wish  that  the  great  talker  had  been  at  hand  to 
avenge  his  grandfather  and  grand-uncle.  Next  morning  "  Mr. 
Macaulay  breakfasted  with  us,  nothing  hurt  or  dismayed  by 
his  last  night's  correction.  Being  a  man  of  good  sense,  he 
had  a  just  admiration  of  Dr.  Johnson."  He  was  rewarded  by 
seeing  Johnson  at  his  very  best,  and  hearing  him  declaim 
some  of  the  finest  lines  that  ever  were  written,  in  a  manner 
worthy  of  his  subject. 

There  is  a  tradition  that,  in  his  younger  days,  the  minister 
of  Inverary  proved  his  Whiggism  by  giving  information  to 
the  authorities  which  almost  led  to  the  capture  of  the  young 
Pretender.  It  is  perhaps  a  matter  of  congratulation  that  this 
item  was  not  added  to  the  heavy  account  that  the  Stuarts  have 
against  the  Macaulay  family.  John  Macaulay  was  in  high 
reputation  as  a  preacher,  and  especially  renowned  for  his  flu- 
ency. In  1774,  he  removed  to  Cardross,  in  Dumbartonshire, 
where,  on  the  bank  of  the  noble  estuary  of  the  Clyde,  he  spent 
the  last  fifteen  years  of  a  useful  and  honored  life.  He  was 
twice  married.  His  first  wife  died  at  the  birth  of  his  first 
child.  Eight  years  afterward,  in  1757,  he  espoused  Margaret, 
daughter  of  Colin  Campbell,  of  Inverseger,  who  survived  him 
by  a  single  year.  By  her  he  had  the  patriarchal  number  of 
twelve  children,  whom  he  brought  up  on  the  old  Scotch  sys- 
tem— common  to  the  households  of  minister,  man  of  business, 
farmer,  and  peasant  alike — on  fine  air,  simple  diet,  and  a  solid 
training  in  knowledge,  human  and  divine.  Two  generations 
after,  Mr.  Carlyle,  during  a  visit  to  the  late  Lord  Ashburton 
at  the  Grange,  caught  sight  of  Macaulay's  face  in  unwonted 
repose,  as  he  was  turning  over  the  pages  of  a  book.  "  I  no- 
ticed," said  he, "  the  homely  Norse  features  that  you  find  ev- 


1800-'18.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  23 

ery  where  in  the  "Western  Isles,  and  I  thought  to  myself : 
*  Well !  any  one  can  see  that  you  are  an  honest,  good  sort  of 
fellow,  made  out  of  oatmeal.' " 

Several  of  John  Macaulay's  children  obtained  position  in 
the  world.  Aulay,  the  eldest  by  his  second  wife,  became  a 
clergyman  of  the  Church  of  England.  His  reputation  as  a 
scholar  and  antiquary  stood  high,  and  in  the  capacity  of  a 
private  tutor  he  became  known  even  in  royal  circles.  He  pub- 
lished pamphlets  and  treatises,  the  list  of  which  it  is  not  worth 
while  to  record,  and  meditated  several  large  works  that  per- 
haps never  got  much  beyond  a  title.  Of  all  his  undertakings 
the  one  best  deserving  commemoration  in  these  pages  was  a 
tour  that  he  made  into  Scotland  in  company  with  Mr.  Thomas 
Babington,  the  owner  of  Rotliley  Temple,  in  Leicestershire,  in 
the  course  of  which  the  travelers  paid  a  visit  to  the  manse  at 
Cardross.  Mr.  Babington  fell  in  love  with  one  of  the  daugh- 
ters of  the  house,  Miss  Jean  Macaulay,  and  married  her  in 
1787.  Nine  years  afterward,  he  had  an  opportunity  of  pre- 
senting his  brother-in-law  Aulay  Macaulay  with  the  very  pleas- 
ant living  of  Rothley. 

Alexander,  another  son  of  John  Macaulay,  succeeded  his 
father  as  minister  of  Cardross.  Colin  went  into  the  Indian 
army,  and  died  a  general.  He  followed  the  example  of  the 
more  ambitious  among  his  brother  officers,  and  exchanged 
military  for  civil  duties.  In  1799  he  acted  as  secretary  to  a 
political  and  diplomatic  commission  which  accompanied  the 
force  that  marched  under  General  Harris  against  Seringapa- 
tam.  The  leading  commissioner  was  Colonel  Wellesley,  and 
to  the  end  of  General  Macaulay's  life  the  great  Duke  corre- 
sponded with  him  on  terms  of  intimacy,  and  (so  the  family 
flattered  themselves)  even  of  friendship.  Soon  after  the  com- 
mencement of  the  century,  Colin  Macaulay  became  resident  at 
the  important  native  state  of  Travancore.  While  on  this  em- 
ployment, he  happened  to  light  upon  a  valuable  collection  of 
books,  and  rapidly  made  himself  master  of  the  principal  Eu- 
ropean languages,  which  he  spoke  and  wrote  with  a  facility 
surprising  in  one  who  had  acquired  them  within  a  few  leagues 
of  Cape  Comorin. 


24  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  i. 

There  was  another  son  of  John  Macaulay  who  in  force  and 
elevation  of  character  stood  out  among  his  brothers,  and  who 
was  destined  to  make  for  himself  no  ordinary  career.  The 
path  which  Zachary  Macaulay  chose  to  tread  did  not  lead  to 
wealth,  or  worldly  success,  or  indeed  to  much  worldly  happi- 
ness. Born  in  1768,  he  was  sent  out  at  the  age  of  sixteen  by 
a  Scotch  house  of  business  as  book-keeper  to  an  estate  in  Ja- 
maica, of  which  he  soon  rose  to  be  sole  manager.  His  posi- 
tion brought  him  into  the  closest  possible  contact  with  negro 
slavery.  His  mind  was  not  prepossessed  against  the  system 
of  society  which  he  found  in  the  West  Indies.  His  personal 
interests  spoke  strongly  in  its  favor,  while  his  father,  whom 
he  justly  respected,  could  see  nothing  to  condemn  in  an  insti- 
tution recognized  by  Scripture.  Indeed,  the  religious  world 
still  allowed  the  maintenance  of  slavery  to  continue  an  open 
question.  John  Newton,  the  real  founder  of  that  school  in 
the  Church  of  England  of  which  in  after-years  Zachary  Mac- 
aulay was  a  devoted  member,  contrived  to  reconcile  the  busi- 
ness of  a  slave-trader  with  the  duties  of  a  Christian,  and  to 
the  end  of  his  days  gave  scandal  to  his  disciples  (who  by  that 
time  were  one  and  all  sworn  abolitionists),  by  refusing  to  see 
that  there  could  be  no  fellowship  between  light  and  such  dark- 
ness. 

But  Zachary  Macaulay  had  eyes  of  his  own  to  look  about 
him,  a  clear  head  for  forming  a  judgment  on  what  he  saw,  and 
a  conscience  which  would  not  permit  him  to  live  otherwise 
than  in  obedience  to  its  mandates.  The  young  Scotchman's 
innate  respect  for  his  fellows,  and  his  appreciation  of  all  that 
instruction  and  religion  can  do  for  men,  was  shocked  at  the 
sight  of  a  population  deliberately  kept  ignorant  and  heathen. 
His  kind  heart  was  wounded  by  cruelties  practiced  at  the  will 
and  pleasure  of  a  thousand  petty  despots.  He  had  read  his 
Bible  too  literally  to  acquiesce  easily  in  a  state  of  matters  un- 
der which  human  beings  were  bred  and  raised  like  a  stock  of 
cattle,  while  outraged  morality  was  revenged  on  the  govern- 
ing race  by  the  shameless  licentiousness  which  is  the  inevitable 
accompaniment  of  slavery.  He  was  well  aware  that  these 
evils,  so  far  from  being  superficial  or  remediable,  were  essen- 


1800-'18.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  25 

tial  to  the  very  existence  of  a  social  fabric  constituted  like 
that  within  which  he  lived.  It  was  not  for  nothing  that  he 
had  been  behind  the  scenes  in  that  tragedy  of  crime  and  mis- 
ery. His  philanthropy  was  not  learned  by  the  royal  road  of 
tracts,  and  platform  speeches,  and  monthly  magazines.  What 
he  knew  he  had  spelled  out  for  himself,  with  no  teacher  ex- 
cept the  aspect  of  human  suffering  and  degradation  and  sin. 

He  was  not  one  of  those  to  whom  conviction  comes  in  a 
day ;  and,  when  convinced,  he  did  nothing  suddenly.  Little 
more  than  a  boy  in  age,  singularly  modest,  and  constitutional- 
ly averse  to  any  course  that  appeared  pretentious  or  theatrical, 
he  began  by  a  sincere  attempt  to  make  the  best  of  his  calling. 
For  some  years  he  contented  himself  with  doing  what  he 
could  (so  he  writes  to  a  friend)  "  to  alleviate  the  hardships  of 
a  considerable  number  of  my  fellow-creatures,  and  to  render 
the  bitter  cup  of  servitude  as  palatable  as  possible."  But  by 
the  time  he  was  f our-and-twenty,  he  became  tired  of  trying 
to  find  a  compromise  between  right  and  wrong,  and,  refusing 
really  great  offers  from  the  people  with  whom  he  was  connect- 
ed, he  threw  up  his  position  and  returned  to  his  native  coun- 
try. This  step  was  taken  against  the  wishes  of  his  father,  who 
was  not  prepared  for  the  construction  which  his  son  put  upon 
the  paternal  precept  that  a  man  should  make  his  practice 
square  with  his  professions. 

But  Zachary  Macaulay  soon  had  more  congenial  work  to  do. 
The  young  West  Indian  overseer  was  not  alone  in  his  scru- 
ples. Already  for  some  time  past  a  conviction  had  been 
abroad  that  individual  citizens  could  not  divest  themselves  of 
their  share  in  the  responsibility  in  which  the  nation  was  in- 
volved by  the  existence  of  slavery  in  our  colonies.  Already 
there  had  been  formed  the  nucleus  of  the  most  disinterested, 
and  perhaps  the  most  successful,  popular  movement  which 
history  records.  The  question  of  the  slave-trade  was  well  be- 
fore Parliament  and  the  country.  Ten  years  had  passed  since 
the  freedom  of  all  whose  feet  touched  the  soil  of  our  island 
had  been  vindicated  before  the  courts  at  Westminster,  and  not 
a  few  negroes  had  become  their  .own  masters  as  a  consequence 
of  that  memorable  decision.  The  patrons  of  the  race  were 


26  LIFE  AJSTD  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  i. 

somewhat  embarrassed  by  having  these  expatriated  freedmen 
on  their  hands ;  an  opinion  prevailed  that  the  traffic  in  hu- 
man lives  could  never  be  efficiently  checked  until  Africa  had 
obtained  the  rudiments  of  civilization ;  and  after  long  discus- 
sion a  scheme  was  matured  for  the  colonization  of  Sierra 
Leone  by  liberated  slaves.  A  company  was  organized,  with 
a  charter  from  the  crown,  and  a  board  which  included  the 
names  of  Granville  Sharpe  and  Wilberforce.  A  large  capital 
was  speedily  subscribed,  and  the  chair  was  accepted  by  Mr. 
Henry  Thornton,  a  leading  City  banker  and  a  member  of  Par- 
liament, whose  determined  opposition  to  cruelty  and  oppres- 
sion in  every  form  was  such  as  might  be  expected  in  one  who 
had  inherited  from  his  father  the  friendship  of  the  poet  Cow- 
per.  Mr.  Thornton  heard  Macaulay's  story  from  Thomas 
Babington,  with  whom  he  lived  on  terms  of  close  intimacy 
and  political  alliance.  The  board,  by  the  advice  of  its  chair- 
man, passed  a  resolution  appointing  the  young  man  second 
member  in  the  Sierra  Leone  Council,  and  early  in  the  year 
1793  he  sailed  for  Africa,  where  soon  after  his  arrival  he  suc- 
ceeded to  the  position  and  duties  of  governor. 

The  directors  had  done  well  to  secure  a  tried  man.  The 
colony  was  at  once  exposed  to  the  implacable  enmity  of  mer- 
chants whose  market  the  agents  of  the  new  company  spoiled 
in  their  capacity  of  traders,  and  slave-dealers  with  whom  they 
interfered  in  their  character  of  philanthropists.  The  native 
tribes  in  the  vicinity,  instigated  by  European  hatred  and  jeal- 
ousy, began  to  inflict  upon  the  defenseless  authorities  of  the 
settlement  a  series  of  those  monkey-like  impertinences  which, 
absurdly  as  they  may  read  in  a  narrative,  are  formidable  and 
ominous  when  they  indicate  that  savages  feel  their  power. 
These  barbarians,  who  had  hitherto  commanded  as  much  rum 
and  gunpowder  as  they  cared  to  have  by  selling  their  neigh- 
bors at  the  nearest  barracoon,  showed  no  appreciation  for  the 
comforts  and  advantages  of  civilization.  Indeed,  those  ad- 
vantages were  displayed  in  any  thing  but  an  attractive  shape 
even  within  the  pale  of  the  company's  territory.  An  aggre- 
gation of  negroes  from  Jamaica,  London,  and  Nova  Scotia, 
who  possessed  no  language  except  an  acquired  jargon,  and 


1800-'18.]  LOKD  MACAULAY.  27 

shared  no  associations  beyond  the  recollections  of  a  common 
servitude,  were  not  very  promising  apostles  for  the  spread 
of  Western  culture  and  the  Christian  faith.  Things  went 
smoothly  enough  as  long  as  the  business  of  the  colony  was 
mainly  confined  to  eating  the  provisions  that  had  been 
brought  in  the  ships ;  but  as  soon  as  the  work  became  real 
and  the  commons  short,  the  whole  community  smoldered 
down  into  chronic  mutiny. 

Zachary  Macaulay  was  the  very  man  for  such  a  crisis.  To  a 
rare  fund  of  patience  and  self-command  and  perseverance  he 
united  a  calm  courage  that  was  equal  to  any  trial.  These 
qualities  were,  no  doubt,  inherent  in  his  disposition  ;  but  no 
one  except  those  who  have  turned  over  his  voluminous  pri- 
vate journals  could  understand  what  constant  effort  and  what 
incessant  watchfulness  went  to  maintain,  throughout  a  long 
life,  a  course  of  conduct  and  a  temper  of  mind  which  gave 
every  appearance  of  being  the  spontaneous  fruit  of  nature. 
He  was  not  one  who  dealt  in  personal  experiences :  and  few 
among  even  the  friends  who  loved  him  like  father  or  brother, 
and  who  would  have  trusted  him  with  all  their  fortune  on  his 
bare  word,  knew  how  entirely  his  outward  behavior  was  the 
express  image  of  his  religious  belief.  The  secret  of  his  char- 
acter and  of  his  actions  lay  in  perfect  humility  and  an  abso- 
lute faith.  Events  did  not  discompose  him,  because  they  were 
sent  by  One  who  best  knew  his  own  purposes.  He  was  not 
fretted  by  the  folly  of  others,  or  irritated  by  their  hostility, 
because  he  regarded  the  humblest  or  the  worst  of  mankind 
as  objects,  equally  with  himself,  of  the  divine  love  and  care. 
On  all  other  points  he  examined  himself  so  closely  that  the 
meditations  of  a  single  evening  would  fill  many  pages  of 
diary  ;  but  so  completely,  in  his  case,  had  the  fear  of  God  cast 
out  all  other  fear,  that,  amidst  the  gravest  perils  and  the  most 
bewildering  responsibilities,  it  never  occurred  to  him  to  ques- 
tion whether  he  was  brave  or  not.  He  worked  strenuously 
and  unceasingly,  never  amusing  himself  from  year's  end  to 
year's  end,  and  shrinking  from  any  public  praise  or  recogni- 
tion as  from  an  unlawful  gratification,  because  he  was  firmly 
persuaded  that,  when  all  had  been  accomplished  and  endured, 


28  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  i. 

he  was  yet  but  an  unprofitable  servant,  who  had  done  that 
which  was  his  duty  to  do.  Some,  perhaps,  will  consider  such 
motives  as  old-fashioned,  and  such  convictions  as  out  of  date ; 
but  self-abnegation,  self-control,  and  self-knowledge  that  do 
not  give  to  self  the  benefit  of  any  doubt,  are  virtues  which 
are  not  old-fashioned,  and  for  which,  as  time  goes  on,  the 
world  is  likely  to  have  as  much  need  as  ever. 

Sir  James  Stephen  writes  thus  of  his  friend  Macaulay  : 
"  That  his  understanding  was  proof  against  sophistry,  and 
his  nerves  against  fear  were,  indeed,  conclusions  to  which  a 
stranger  arrived  at  the  first  interview  with  him.  But  what 
might  be  suggesting  that  expression  of  countenance,  at  once 
so  earnest  and  so  monotonous — by  what  manner  of  feelings 

«/  O 

those  gestures,  so  uniformly  firm  and  deliberate,  were  prompt- 
ed— whence  the  constant  traces  of  fatigue  on  those  overhang- 
ing brows,  and  on  that  athletic  though  ungraceful  figure — 
what  might  be  the  charm  which  excited  among  his  chosen 
circle  a  faith  approaching  to  superstition,  and  a  love  rising  to 
enthusiasm,  toward  a  man  whose  demeanor  was  so  inanimate, 
if  not  austere :  it  was  a  riddle  of  which  neither  Gall  nor  La- 
vater  could  have  found  the  key." 

That  Sir  James  himself  could  read  the  riddle  is  proved  by 
the  concluding  words  of  a  passage  marked  by  a  force  and  ten- 
derness of  feeling  unusual  even  in  him  :  "  His  earthward  af- 
fections, active  and  all-enduring  as  they  were,  could  yet  thrive 
without  the  support  of  human  sympathy,  because  they  were 
sustained  by  so  abiding  a  sense  of  the  divine  presence,  and  so 
absolute  a  submission  to  the  divine  will,  as  raised  him  habit- 
ually to  that  higher  region  where  the  reproach  of  man  could 
not  reach,  and  the  praise  of  man  might  not  presume  to  follow 
him." 

Mr.  Macaulay  was  admirably  adapted  for  the  arduous  and 
uninviting  task  of  planting  a  negro  colony.  His  very  de- 
ficiencies stood  him  in  good  stead ;  for  in  presence  of  the  ele- 
ments with  which  he  had  to  deal,  it  was  well  for  him  that  nat- 
ure had  denied  him  any  sense  of  the  ridiculous.  Unconscious 
of  what  was  absurd  around  him,  and  incapable  of  being  flur- 
ried, frightened,  or  fatigued,  he  stood  as  a  centre  of  order  and 


1800-'18.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  29 

authority  amidst  the  seething  chaos  of  inexperience  and  in- 
subordination. The  staff  was  miserably  insufficient,  and  ev- 
ery officer  of  the  company  had  to  do  duty  for  three  in  a  cli- 
mate such  that  a  man  is  fortunate  if  he  can  find  health  for 
the  work  of  one  during  a  continuous  twelvemonth.  The 
governor  had  to  be  in  the  counting-house,  the  law-court,  the 
school,  and  even  the  chapel.  He  was  his  own  secretary,  his 
own  pay-master,  his  own  envoy.  He  posted  ledgers,  he  de- 
cided causes,  he  conducted  correspondence  with  the  directors 
at  home,  and  visited  neighboring  potentates  on  diplomatic 
missions  which  made  up  in  danger  what  they  lacked  in  dig- 
nity. In  the  absence  of  properly  qualified  clergymen,  with 
whom  he  would  have  been  the  last  to  put  himself  in  compe- 
tition, he  preached  sermons  and  performed  marriages  —  a 
function  wThich  must  have  given  honest  satisfaction  to  one 
who  had  been  so  close  a  witness  of  the  enforced  and  system- 
atized immorality  of  a  slave-nursery.  Before  long  something 
fairly  resembling  order  was  established,  and  the  settlement  be- 
gan to  enjoy  a  reasonable  measure  of  prosperity.  The  town 
was  built,  the  fields  were  planted,  and  the  schools  filled.  The 
governor  made  a  point  of  allotting  the  lightest  work  to  the 
negroes  who  could  read  and  write :  and  such  was  the  stimula- 
ting effect  of  this  system  upon  education  that  he  confidently 
looked  forward  "  to  the  time  when  there  would  be  few  in  the 
colony  unable  to  read  the  Bible."  A  printing-press  was  in 
constant  operation,  and  in  the  use  of  a  copying-machine  the 
little  community  was  three-quarters  of  a  century  ahead  of  the 
London  public  offices. 

But  a  severe  ordeal  was  in  store  for  the  nascent  civilization 
of  Sierra  Leone.  On  a  Sunday  morning  in  September,  1794, 
eight  French  sail  appeared  off  the  coast.  The  town  was  about 
as  defensible  as  Brighton,  and  it  is  not  difficult  to  imagine  the 
feelings  which  the  sans-culottes  inspired  among  evangelical 
colonists  whose  last  advices  from  Europe  dated  from  the  very 
height  of  the  Reign  of  Terror.  There  was  a  party  in  favor 
of  escaping  into  the  forest  with  as  much  property  as  could  be 
removed  at  so  short  a  notice;  but  the  governor  insisted  that 
there  would  be  no  chance  of  saving  the  company's  buildings 


30  LIFE  AND  LETTEES  OF  [CHAP.  i. 

unless  the  company's  servants  could  make  up  their  minds  to 
remain  at  their  posts  and  face  it  out.  The  squadron  moored 
within  musket-shot  of  the  quay,  and  swept  the  streets  for  two 
hours  with  grape  and  bullets  ;  a  most  gratuitous  piece  of  cru- 
elty that  killed  a  negress  and  a  child,  and  gave  one  unlucky 
English  gentleman  a  fright  which  ultimately  brought  him  to 
his  grave.  The  invaders  then  proceeded  to  land,  and  Mr.  Mac- 
aulay  had  an  opportunity  of  learning  something  about  the 
condition  of  the  French  marine  during  the  heroic  period  of 
the  republic. 

A  personal  enemy  of  his  own,  the  captain  of  a  Yankee 
slaver,  brought  a  party  of  sailors  straight  to  the  governor's 
house.  What  followed  had  best  be  told  in  Mr.  Macaulay's 
own  words :  "  Newell,  who  was  attended  by  half  a  dozen  sans- 
culottes, almost  foaming  with  rage,  presented  a  pistol  to  me, 
and  with  many  oaths  demanded  instant  satisfaction  for  the 
slaves  who  had  run  away  from  him  to  my  protection.  I  made 
very  little  reply,  but  told  him  he  must  now  take  such  satisfac- 
tion as  he  judged  equivalent  to  his  claims,  as  I  was  no  longer 
master  of  my  actions.  He  became  so  very  outrageous  that, 
after  bearing  with  him  a  little  while,  I  thought  it  most  prudent 
to  repair  myself  to  the  French  officer,  and  request  his  safe-con- 
duct on  board  the  commodore's  ship.  As  I  passed  along  the 
wharf  the  scene  was  curious  enough.  The  Frenchmen,  who 
had  come  ashore  in  filth  and  rags,  were  now,  many  of  them, 
dressed  out  with  women's  shifts,  gowns,  and  petticoats.  Oth- 
ers had  quantities  of  cloth  wrapped  about  their  bodies,  or  per- 
haps six  or  seven  suits  of  clothes  upon  them  at  a  time.  The 
scene  which  presented  itself  on  my  getting  on  board  the  flag- 
ship was  still  more  singular.  The  quarter-deck  was  crowded 
by  a  set  of  ragamuffins  whose  appearance  beggared  every  pre- 
vious description,  and  among  whom  I  sought  in  vain  for  some 
one  who  looked  like  a  gentleman.  The  stench  and  filth  exceed- 
ed any  thing  I  had  ever  witnessed  in  any  ship,  and  the  noise 
and  confusion  gave  me  some  idea  of  their  famous  Mountain. 
I  was  ushered  into  the  commodore's  cabin,  who  at  least  re- 
ceived me  civilly.  His  name  was  Citizen  Allemand.  He  did 
not  appear  to  have  the  right  of  excluding  any  of  his  fellow- 


ISOO-'IS.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  31 

citizens  even  from  this  place.  Whatever  might  be  their  rank, 
they  crowded  into  it,  and  conversed  familiarly  with  him." 
Such  was  the  discipline  of  the  fleet  that  had  been  beaten  by 
Lord  Howe  on  the  1st  of  June,  and  such  the  raw  material  of 
the  armies  which,  under  firm  hands  and  on  an  element  more 
suited  to  the  military  genius  of  their  nation,  were  destined  to 
triumph  at  Bivoli  and  Hohenlinden. 

Mr.  Macaulay,  who  spoke  French  with  ease  and  precision, 
in  his  anxiety  to  save  the  town  used  every  argument  which 
might  prevail  on  the  commander,  whose  Christian  name  (if 
one  may  use  such  a  phrase  with  reference  to  a  patriot  of  the 
year  two  of  the  republic),  happened,  oddly  enough,  to  be  the 
same  as  his  own.  He  appealed  first  to  the  traditional  gener- 
osity of  Frenchmen  toward  a  fallen  enemy,  but  soon  discerned 
that  the  quality  in  question  had  gone  out  with  the  old  order 
of  things,  if  indeed  it  ever  existed.  He  then  represented  that 
a  people  who  professed  to  be  waging  war  with  the  express  ob- 
ject of  striking  off  the  fetters  of  mankind  would  be  guilty  of 
flagrant  inconsistency  if  they  destroyed  an  asylum  for  libera- 
ted slaves :  but  the  commodore  gave  him  to  understand  that 
sentiments  which  sounded  very  well  in  the  Hall  of  the  Jaco- 
bins were  out  of  place  on  the  West  Coast  of  Africa.  The  gov- 
ernor returned  on  shore  to  find  the  town  already  completely 
gutted.  It  was  evident  at  every  turn  that,  although  the  re- 
publican battalions  might  carry  liberty  and  fraternity  through 
Europe  on  the  points  of  their  bayonets,  the  republican  sailors 
had  found  a  very  different  use  for  the  edge  of  their  cutlasses. 
"  The  sight  of  my  own  and  of  the  accountant's  offices  almost 
sickened  me.  Every  desk  and  every  drawer  and  every  shelf, 
together  with  the  printing  and  copying  presses,  had  been  com- 
pletely demolished  in  the  search  for  money.  The  floors  were 
strewed  with  types,  and  papers,  and  leaves  of  books,  and  I  had 
the  mortification  to  see  a  great  part  of  my  own  labor  and  of 
the  labor  of  others  for  several  years  totally  destroyed.  At  the 
other  end  of  the  house  I  found  telescopes,  hygrometers,  barom- 
eters, thermometers,  and  electrical  machines,  lying  about  in 
fragments.  The  view  of  the  town  library  filled  me  with  live- 
ly concern.  The  volumes  were  tossed  about  and  defaced  with 


32  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  i. 

the  utmost  wantonness,  and  if  they  happened  to  bear  any  re- 
semblance to  Bibles  they  were  torn  in  pieces  and  trampled 
on.  The  collection  of  natural  curiosities  next  caught  my  eye. 
Plants,  seefls,  dried  birds,  insects,  and  drawings  were  scattered 
about  in  great  confusion,  and  some  of  the  sailors  were  in  the 
act  of  killing  a  beautiful  musk-cat,  which  they  afterward  eat. 
Every  house  was  full  of  Frenchmen,  who  were  hacking  and 
destroying  and  tearing  up  every  thing  which  they  could  not 
convert  to  their  own  use.  The  destruction  of  live  stock  on 
this  and  the  following  day  was  immense.  In  my  yard  alone 
they  killed  fourteen  dozen  of  fowls,  and  there  were  not  less 
than  twelve  hundred  hogs  shot  in  the  town."  It  was  unsafe 
to  walk  in  the  streets  of  Freetown  during  the  forty -eight 
hours  that  followed  its  capture,  because  the  French  crews,  with 
too  much  of  the  company's  port-wine  in  their  heads  to  aim 
straight,  were  firing  at  the  pigs  of  the  poor  freedmen  over 
whom  they  had  achieved  such  a  questionable  victory. 

To  readers  of  Erckmann-Chatrian  it  is  unpleasant  to  be 
taken  thus  behind  the  curtain  on  which  those  skillful  artists 
have  painted  the  wars  of  the  early  Revolution.  It  is  one 
thing  to  be  told  how  the  crusaders  of  '93  and  '94  were  re- 
ceived with  blessings  and  banquets  by  the  populations  to 
whom  they  brought  freedom  and  enlightenment,  and  quite 
another  to  read  the  journal  in  which  a  quiet,  accurate-minded 
Scotchman  tells  us  how  a  pack  of  tipsy  ruffians  sat  abusing 
Pitt  and  George  to  him  over  a  fricassee  of  his  own  fowls,  and 
among  the  wreck  of  his  lamps  and  mirrors  which  they  had 
smashed  as  a  protest  against  aristocratic  luxury. 

"  There  is  not  a  boy  among  them  who  has  not  learned  to 
accompany  the  name  of  Pitt  with  an  execration.  When  I 
went  to  bed,  there  was  no  sleep  to  be  had  on  account  of  the 
sentinels  thinking  fit  to  amuse  me  the  whole  night  through 
with  the  revenge  they  meant  to  take  on  him  when  they  got 
him  to  Paris.  Next  morning  I  went  on  board  the  Experiment. 
The  commodore  and  all  his  officers  messed  together,  and  I  was 
admitted  among  them.  They  are  truly  the  poorest  -  looking 
people  I  ever  saw.  Even  the  commodore  has  only  one  suit 
which  can  at  all  distinguish  him,  not  to  say  from  the  officers, 


1800-18.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  33 

but  from  the  men.  The  filth  and  confusion  of  their  meals  were 
terrible.  A  chorus  of  boys  usher  in  the  dinner  with  the  Mar- 
seilles hymn,  and  it  finishes  in  the  same  way.  The  enthusiasm 
of  all  ranks  among  them  is  astonishing,  but  not  more  so  than 
their  blindness.  They  talk  with  ecstasy  of  their  revolutionary 
government,  of  their  bloody  executions,  of  their  revolution- 
ary tribunal,  of  the  rapid  movement  of  their  revolutionary 
army  with  the  Corps  of  Justice  and  the  flying  guillotine  be- 
fore it :  forgetting  that  not  one  of  them  is  not  liable  to  its 
stroke  on  the  accusation  of  the  greatest  vagabond  on  board. 
They  asked  me  with  triumph  if  yesterday  had  not  been  Sun- 
day. *  Oh,'  said  they,  *  the  National  Convention  have  decreed 
that  there  is  no  Sunday,  and  that  the  Bible  is  all  a  lie.' "  Aft- 
er such  an  experience  it  is  not  difficult  to  account  for  the  keen 
and  almost  personal  interest  with  which,  to  the  very  day  of 
Waterloo,  Mr.  Macaulay  watched  through  its  varying  phases 
the  rise  and  the  downfall  of  the  French  power.  He  followed 
the  progress  of  the  British  arms  with  a  minute  and  intelligent 
attention  which  from  a  very  early  date  communicated  itself  to 
his  son :  and  the  hearty  patriotism  of  Lord  Macaulay  is  per- 
haps in  no  small  degree  the  consequence  of  what  his  father 
suffered  from  the  profane  and  rapacious  sans-culottes  of  the 
revolutionary  squadron. 

Toward  the  middle  of  October  the  republicans  took  their 
departure.  Even  at  this  distance  of  time  it  is  provoking  to 
learn  that  they  got  back  to  Brest  without  meeting  an  enemy 
that  had  teeth  to  bite.  The  African  climate,  however,  reduced 
the  squadron  to  such  a  plight,  that  it  was  well  for  our  frigates 
that  they  had  not  the  chance  of  getting  its  fever  -  stricken 
crews  under  their  hatches.  The  French  never  revisited  Free- 
town. Indeed,  they  had  left  the  place  in  such  a  condition  that 
it  was  not  worth  their  while  to  return.  The  houses  had  been 
carefully  burned  to  the  ground,  and  the  live  stock  killed.  Ex- 
cept the  clothes  on  their  backs,  and  a  little  brandy  and  flour, 
the  Europeans  had  lost  every  thing  they  had  in  the  world. 
Till  assistance  came  from  the  mother  country,  they  lived  upon 
such  provisions  as  could  be  recovered  from  the  reluctant  hands 
of  the  negro  settlers,  who  providentially  had  not  been  able  to 

YOL.  L— 3 


34  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  i. 

resist  the  temptation  of  helping  the  republicans  to  plunder 
the  company's  stores.  Judicious  liberality  at  home,  and  a 
year's  hard  work  on  the  spot,  did  much  to  repair  the  damage ; 
and,  when  his  colony  was  again  upon  its  feet,  Mr.  Macaulay 
sailed  to  England  with  the  object  of  recruiting  his  health, 
which  had  broken  down  under  an  attack  of  low  fever. 

On  his  arrival  he  was  admitted  at  once  and  forever  within 
the  innermost  circle  of  friends  and  fellow-laborers  who  were 
united  round  Wilberforce  and  Henry  Thornton  by  indissolu- 
ble bonds  of  mutual  personal  regard  and  common  public  ends. 
As  an  indispensable  part  of  his  initiation  into  that  very  pleas- 
ant confederacy,  he  was  sent  down  to  be  introduced  to  Hannah 
More,  who  was  living  at  Cowslip  Green,  near  Bristol,  in  the 
enjoyment  of  general  respect  mixed  with  a  good  deal  of  what 
even  those  who  admire  her  as  she  deserved  must  in  conscience 
call  flattery.  He  there  met  Selina  Mills,  a  former  pupil  of  the 
school  which  the  Miss  Mores  kept  in  the  neighboring  city,  and 
a  life-long  friend  of  all  the  sisters.  The  young  lady  is  said 
to  have  been  extremely  pretty  and  attractive,  as  may  well  be 
believed  by  those  who  saw  her  in  later  years.  She  was  the 
daughter  of  a  member  of  the  Society  of  Friends,  who  at  one 
time  was  a  book-seller  in  Bristol,  and  who  built  there  a  small 
street,  called  "  Mills  Place,"  in  which  he  himself  resided.  His 
grandchildren  remembered  him  as  an  old  man  of  imposing 
appearance,  with  long  white  hair,  talking  incessantly  of  Jacob 
Boehmen.  Mr.  Mills  had  sons,  one  of  whom  edited  a  Bristol 
journal  exceedingly  well,  and  is  said  to  have  made  some  figure 
in  light  literature.  This  uncle  of  Lord  Macaulay  was  a  very 
lively,  clever  man,  full  of  good  stories,  of  which  only  one  has 
survived.  Young  Mills,  while  resident  in  London,  had  looked 
in  at  Kowland  Hill's  chapel,  and  had  there  lost  a  new  hat. 
When  he  reported  the  misfortune  to  his  father,  the  old  Quaker 
replied,  "  John,  if  thee'd  gone  to  the  right  place  of  worship, 
thee'd  have  kept  thy  hat  upon  thy  head."  Lord  Macaulay  was 
accustomed  to  say  that  he  got  his  "  joviality  "  from  his  moth- 
er's family.  If  his  power  of  humor  was  indeed  of  Quaker 
origin,  he  was  rather  ungrateful  in  the  use  to  which  he  some- 
times put  it. 


1800-18.]  LOKD  MACAULAY.  35 

Mr.  Macaulay  fell  in  love  with  Miss  Mills,  and  obtained  her 
affection  in  return.  He  had  to  encounter  the  opposition  of 
her  relations,  who  were  set  upon  her  making  another  and  a 
better  match,  and  of  Mrs.  Patty  More  (so  well  known  to  all 
who  have  studied  the  somewhat  diffuse  annals  of  the  More 
family),  who,  in  the  true  spirit  of  romantic  friendship,  wished 
her  to  promise  never  to  marry  at  all,  but  to  domesticate  her- 
self as  a  youngest  sister  in  the  household  at  Cowslip  Green. 
Miss  Hannah,  however,  took  a  more  unselfish  view  of  the  sit- 
uation, and  advocated  Mr.  Macaulay's  cause  with  firmness  and 
good  feeling.  Indeed,  he  must  have  been,  according  to  her 
particular  notions,  the  most  irreproachable  of  lovers,  until  her 
own  Coelebs  was  given  to  the  world.  By  her  help  he  carried 
his  point  in  so  far  that  the  engagement  was  made  and  recog- 
nized ;  but  the  friends  of  the  young  lady  would  not  allow  her 
to  accompany  him  to  Africa ;  and,  during  his  absence  from 
England,  which  began  in  the  early  months  of  1796,  by  an  ar- 
rangement that  under  the  circumstances  was  very  judicious, 
she  spent  much  of  her  time  with  his  sister,  Mrs.  Babington,  in 
Leicestershire. 

His  first  business  after  arriving  at  Sierra  Leone  was  to  sit 
in  judgment  on  the  ringleaders  of  a  formidable  outbreak  which 
had  taken  place  in  the  colony,  and  he  had  an  opportunity  of 
proving  by  example  that  negro  disaffection,  from  the  nature 
of  the  race,  is  peculiarly  susceptible  to  treatment  by  mild  rem- 
edies, if  only  the  man  in  the  post  of  responsibility  has  got  a 
heart  and  can  contrive  to  keep  his  head.  He  had  much  more 
trouble  with  a  batch  of  missionaries  whom  he  took  with  him 
in  the  ship,  and  who  were  no  sooner  on  board  than  they  be- 
gan to  fall  out,  ostensibly  on  controversial  topics,  but  more 
probably  from  the  same  motives  that  so  often  set. the  laity 
quarreling  during  the  incessant  and  involuntary  companion- 
ship of  a  sea-voyage.  Mr.  Macaulay,  finding  that  the  warmth 
of  these  debates  furnished  sport  to  the  captain  and  other  irre- 
ligious characters,  was  forced  seriously  to  exert  his  authority 
in  order  to  separate  and  silence  the  disputants.  His  report  of 
these  occurrences  went  in  due  time  to  the  chairman  of  the 
company,  who  excused  himself  for  an  arrangement  which  had 


36  LIFE  AND  LETTEKS  OF  [CHAP.  i. 

turned  out  so  ill  by  telling  a  story  of  a  servant  who,  having  to 
carry  a  number  of  gamecocks  from  one  place  to  another,  tied 
them  up  in  the  same  bag,  and  found,  on  arriving  at  his  jour- 
ney's end,  that  they  had  spent  .their  time  in  tearing  each  other 
to  pieces.  When  his  master  called  him  to  account  for  his  stu- 
pidity, he  replied,  "  Sir,  as  they  were  all  your  cocks,  I  thought 
they  would  be  all  on  one  side." 

Things  did  not  go  much  more  smoothly  on  shore.  Mr. 
Macaulay's  official  correspondence  gives  a  curious  picture  of 
his  difficulties  in  the  character  of  Minister  of  Public  Worship 
in  a  black  community.  "  The  Baptists  under  David  George 
are  decent  and  orderly,  but  there  is  observable  in  them  a  great 
neglect  of  family  worship,  and  sometimes  an  unfairness  in 
their  dealings.  To  Lady  Huntingdon's  Methodists,  as  a  body, 
may  with  great  justice  be  addressed  the  first  verse  of  the  third 
chapter  of  the  Kevelation.  The  lives  of  many  of  them  are 
very  disorderly,  and  rank  antinomianism  prevails  among 
them."  But  his  sense  of  religion  and  decency  was  most  sore- 
ly tried  by  Moses  Wilkinson,  a  so-called  Wesleyan  Methodist, 
whose  congregation,  not  a  very  respectable  one  to  begin  with, 
had  recently  been  swollen  by  a  revival*  which  had  been  ac- 
companied by  circumstances  the  reverse  of  edifying.  The 
governor  must  have  looked  back  with  regret  to  that  period  in 
the  history  of  the  colony  when  he  was  underhanded  in  the 
clerical  department. 

But  his  interest  in  the  negro  could  bear  ruder  shocks  than 
an  occasional  outburst  of  eccentric  fanaticism.  He  liked  his 
work  because  he  liked  those  for  whom  he  was  working. 


*  Lord  Macaulay  had  in  his  youth  heard  too  much  about  negro  preach- 
ers and  negro  administrators  to  permit  him  to  entertain  any  very  enthu- 
siastic anticipations  with  regard  to  the  future  of  the  African  race.  He 
writes  in  his  journal  for  July  8th,  1858 :  "  Motley  called.  I  like  him  much. 
We  agree  wonderfully  well  about  slavery,  and  it  is  not  often  that  I  meet 
any  person  with  whom  I  agree  on  that  subject.  For  I  hate  slavery  from 
the  bottom  of  my  soul ;  and  yet  I  am  made  sick  by  the  cant  and  the  silly 
mock  reasons  of  the  Abolitionists.  The  nigger  driver  and  the  negrophile 
are  two  odious  things  to  me.  I  must  make  Lady  Macbeth's  reservation : 
'  Had  he  not  resembled .' M 


1800-'18.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  37 

"Poor  people,"  he  writes,  "one  can  not  help  loving  them. 
With  all  their  trying  humors,  they  have  a  warmth  of  affec- 
tion which  is  really  irresistible."  For  their  sake  he  endured  all 
the  risk  and  worry  inseparable  from  a  long  engagement  kept 
by  the  lady  among  disapproving  friends,  and  by  the  gentle- 
man at  Sierra  Leone.  He  staid  till  the  settlement  had  begun 
to  thrive  and  the  company  had  almost  begun  to  pay,  and  until 
the  home  Government  had  given  marked  tokens  of  favor  and 
protection  which  some  years  later  developed  into  a  negotia- 
tion under  which  the  colony  was  transferred  to  the  crown.  It 
was  not  till  1799  that  he  finally  gave  up  his  appointment, 
and  left  a  region  which,  alone  among  men,  he  quit  with  un- 
feigned, and,  except  in  one  particular,  with  unmixed  regret. 
But  for  the  absence  of  an  Eve,  he  regarded  the  West  Coast  of 
Africa  as  a  veritable  paradise,  or,  to  use  his  own  expression, 
as  a  more  agreeable  Montpellier.  With  a  temper  which  in 
the  intercourse  of  society  was  proof  against  being  ruffled  by 
any  possible  treatment  of  any  conceivable  subject,  to  the  end 
of  his  life  he  showed  faint  signs  of  irritation  if  any  one  vent- 
ured in  his  presence  to  hint  that  Sierra  Leone  was  unhealthy. 
On  his  return  to  England  he  was  appointed  secretary  to  the 
company,  and  was  married  at  Bristol  on  the  26th  of  August, 
1T99.  A  most  close  union  it  was,  and  (though  in  latter  years 
he  became  fearfully  absorbed  in  the  leading  object  of  his  ex- 
istence, and  ceased  in  a  measure  to  be  the  companion  that  he 
had  been),  his  love  for  his  wife,  and  deep  trust  and  confidence 
in  her,  never  failed.  They  took  a  small  house  in  Lambeth 
for  the  first  twelve  months.  When  Mrs.  Macaulay  was  near 
her  confinement,  Mrs.  Babington,  who  belonged  to  the  school 
of  matrons  who  hold  that  the  advantage  of  country  air  out- 
weighs that  of  London  doctors,  invited  her  sister-in-law  to 
Rothley  Temple ;  and  there,  in  a  room  paneled  from  ceiling 
to  floor,  like  every  corner  of  the  ancient  mansion,  with  oak  al- 
most black  from  age — looking  eastward  across  the  park,  and 
southward  through  an  ivy-shaded  window  into  a  little  garden 
— Lord  Macaulay  was  born.  It  was  on  the  25th  of  October, 
1800,  the  day  of  St.  Crispin,  the  anniversary  of  Agincourt 
(as  he  liked  to  say),  that  he  opened  his  eyes  on  a  world  which 


38  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  I. 

he  was  destined  so  thoroughly  to  learn  and  so  intensely  to  en- 
joy. His  father  was  as  pleased  as  a  father  could  be  ;  but  fate 
seemed  determined  that  Zachary  Macaulay  should  not  be  in- 
dulged in  any  great  share  of  personal  happiness.  The  next 
morning  a  spinning-jenny  set  off  in  a  cottage  as  he  was  rid- 
ing past.  His  horse  started  and  threw  him :  both  arms  were 
broken  ;  and  he  spent  in  a  sick-room  the  remainder  of  the 
only  holiday  worth  the  name  which  (as  far  as  can  be  traced  in 
the  family  records)  he  ever  took  during  his  married  life.  Ow- 
ing to  this  accident,  the  young  couple  were  detained  at  Roth- 
ley  into  the  winter,  and  the  child  was  baptized,  in  the  private 
chapel  which  formed  part  of  the  house,  on  the  26th  of  Novem- 
ber, 1800,  by  the  names  of  Thomas  Babington,  the  Eev.  Au- 
lay  Macaulay  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Babington  acting  as  sponsors. 

The  two  years  which  followed  were  passed  in  a  house  in 
Birchin  Lane,  where  the  Sierra  Leone  Company  had  its  office. 
The  only  place  where  the  child  could  be  taken  for  exercise, 
and  what  might  be  called  air,  was  Drapers'  Garden,  which 
(already  under  sentence  to  be  covered  with  bricks  and  mortar 
at  an  early  date)  lies  behind  Throgmorton  Street  and  within 
a  hundred  yards  of  the  Stock  Exchange.  To  this  dismal  yard, 
containing  as  much  gravel  as  grass,  and  frowned  upon  by 
a  board  of  rules  and  regulations  almost  as  large  as  itself,  his 
mother  used  to  convoy  the  nurse  and  the  little  boy  through 
the  crowds  that  toward  noon  swarmed  along  Cornhill  and 
Threadneedle  Street,  and  thither  she  would  return  after  a  due 
interval  to  escort  them  back  to  Birchin  Lane.  So  strong  was 
the  power  of  association  upon  Macaulay's  mind  that  in  after- 
years  Drapers'  Garden  was  among  his  favorite  haunts.  In- 
deed, his  habit  of  roaming  for  hours  through  and  through  the 
heart  of  the  City  (a  habit  that  never  left  him  as  long  as  he 
could  roam  at  all),  was  due  in  part  to  the  recollection  which 
caused  him  to  regard  that  region  as  native  ground. 

Baby  as  he  was  when  he  quit  it,  he  retained  some  impres- 
sion of  his  earliest  home.  He  remembered  standing  up  at 
the  nursery  window  by  his  father's  side,  looking  at  a  cloud 
of  black  smoke  pouring  out  of  a  tall  chimney.  He  asked  if 
that  was  hell :  an  inquiry  that  was  received  with  a  grave  dis- 


1800-'18.]  LOKD  MACAULAY.  39 

pleasure  which  at  the  time  he  could  not  understand.  The 
kindly  father  must  have  been  pained  almost  against  his  own 
will  at  finding  what  feature  of  his  stern  creed  it  was  that  had 
embodied  itself  in  so  very  material  a  shape  before  his  little 
son's  imagination.  When,  in  after-days,  Mrs.  Macaulay  was 
questioned  as  to  how  soon  she  began  to  detect  in  the  child  a 
promise  of  the  future,  she  used  to  say  that  his  sensibilities  and 
affections  were  remarkably  developed  at  an  age  which  to  her 
hearers  appeared  next  to  incredible.  He  would  cry  for  joy 
on  seeing  her  after  a  few  hours'  absence,  and  (till  her  husband 
put  a  stop  to  it)  her  power  of  exciting  his  feelings  was  often 
made  an  exhibition  to  her  friends.  She  did  not  regard  this 
precocity  as  a  proof  of  cleverness,  but,  like  a  foolish  young 
mother,  only  thought  that  so  tender  a  nature  was  marked  for 
early  death. 

The  next  move  which  the  family  made  was  into  as  healthy 
an  atmosphere,  in  every  sense,  as  the  most  careful  parent 
could  wish  to  select.  Mr.  Macaulay  took  a  house  in  the  High 
Street  of  Clapham,  in  the  part  now  called  the  Pavement,  on 
the  same  side  as  the  Plow  Inn,  but  some  doors  nearer  to  the 
Common.  It  was  a  roomy,  comfortable  dwelling,  with  a  very 
small  garden  behind,  and  in  front  a  very  small  one  indeed, 
which  has  entirely  disappeared  beneath  a  large  shop  thrown 
out  toward  the  roadway  by  the  present  occupier,  who  bears 
the  name  of  Heywood.  Here  the  boy  passed  a  quiet  and 
most  happy  childhood.  From  the  time  that  he  was  three 
years  old  he  read  incessantly,  for  the  most  part  lying  on  the 
rug  before  the  fire,  with  his  book  on  the  ground,  and  a  piece 
of  bread-and-butter  in  his  hand.  A  very  clever  woman  who 
then  lived  in  the  house  as  parlor-maid  told  how  he  used  to  sit 
in  his  nankeen  frock,  perched  on  the  table  by  her  as  she  was 
cleaning  the  plate,  and  expounding  to  her  out  of  a  volume  as 
big  as  himself.  He  did  not  care  for  toys,  but  was  very  fond 
of  taking  his  walk,  when  he  would  hold  forth  to  his  com- 
panion, whether  nurse  or  mother,  telling  interminable  stories 
out  of  his  own  head,  or  repeating  what  he  had  been  reading 
in  language  far  above  his  years.  His  memory  retained  with- 
out effort  the  phraseology  of  the  book  which  he  had  been  last 


40  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  I. 

engaged  on,  and  he  talked,  as  the  maid  said,  "quite  printed 
words,"  which  produced  an  effect  that  appeared  formal,  and 
often,  no  doubt,  exceedingly  droll.  Mrs.  Hannah  More  was 
fond  of  relating  how  she  called  at  Mr.  Macaulay's,  and  was 
met  by  a  fair,  pretty,  slight  child,  with  abundance  of  light 
hair,  about  four  years  of  age,  who  came  to  the  front  door  to 
receive  her,  and  tell  her  that  his  parents  were  out,  but  that 
if  she  would  be  good  enough  to  come  in  he  would  bring  her 
a  glass  of  old  spirits:  a  proposition  which  greatly  startled 
the  good  lady,  who  had  never  aspired  beyond  cowslip-wine. 
When  questioned  as  to  what  he  knew  about  old  spirits  he 
could  only  say  that  Eobinson  Crusoe  often  had  some.  About 
this  period  his  father  took  him  on  a  visit  to  Lady  "Waldegrave 
at  Strawberry  Hill,  and  was  much  pleased  to  exhibit  to  his 
old  friend  the  fair,  bright  boy,  dressed  in  a  green  coat  with 
red  collar  and  cuffs,  a  frill  at  the  throat,  and  white  trousers. 
After  some  tune  had  been  spent  among  the  wonders  of  the 
Orford  Collection,  of  which  he  ever  after  carried  a  catalogue 
in  his  head,  a  servant  who  was  waiting  upon  the  company  in 
the  great  gallery  spilled  some  hot  coffee  over  his  legs.  The 
hostess  was  all  kindness  and  compassion,  and  when,  after  a 
while,  she  asked  how  he  was  feeling,  the  little  fellow  looked 
up  in  her  face,  and  replied,  "  Thank  you,  madam,  the  agony  is 
abated." 

But  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  his  quaint  manners  pro- 
ceeded from  affectation  or  conceit ;  for  all  testimony  declares 
that  a  more  simple  and  natural  child  never  lived,  or  a  more 
lively  and  merry  one.  He  had  at  his  command  the  resources 
of  the  Common ;  to  this  day  the  most  unchanged  spot  within 
ten  miles  of  St.  Paul's,  and  which  to  all  appearance  will  ere 
long  hold  that  pleasant  pre-eminence  within  ten  leagues.  That 
delightful  wilderness  of  gore  bushes,  and  poplar  groves,  and 
gravel-pits,  and  ponds  great  and  small,  was  to  little  Tom  Mac- 
aulay  a  region  of  inexhaustible  romance  and  mystery.  He 
explored  its  recesses ;  he  composed,  and  almost  believed,  its 
legends ;  he  invented  for  its  different  features  a  nomenclature 
which  has  been  faithfully  preserved  by  two  generations  of 
children,  A  slight  ridge  intersected  by  deep  ditches  toward 


1800-'18.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  41 

the  west  of  the  Common,  the  very  existence  of  which  no  one 
above  eight  years  old  would  notice,  was  dignified  with  the 
title  of  the  Alps;  while  the  elevated  island,  covered  with 
shrubs,  that  gives  a  name  to  the  Mount  pond,  was  regarded 
with  infinite  awe,  as  being  the  nearest  approach  within  the  cir- 
cuit of  his  observation  to  a  conception  of  the  majesty  of  Sinai. 
Indeed,  at  this  period  his  infant  fancy  was  much  exercised 
with  the  threats  and  terrors  of  the  Law.  He  had  a  little  plot 
of  ground  at  the  back  of  the  house,  marked  out  as  his  own  by 
a  row  of  oyster-shells,  which  a  maid  one  day  threw  away  as 
rubbish.  He  went  straight  to  the  drawing-room,  where  his 
mother  was  entertaining  some  visitors,  walked  into  the  circle, 
and  said,  very  solemnly,  "  Cursed  be  Sally ;  for  it  is  written, 
Cursed  is  he  that  removeth  his  neighbor's  landmark." 

While  still  the  merest  child,  he  was  sent  as  a  day-scholar  to 
Mr.  Greaves,  a  shrewd  Yorkshireman  with  a  turn  for  science, 
who  had  been  originally  brought  to  the  neighborhood  in  order 
to  educate  a  number  of  African  youths  sent  over  to  imbibe 
"Western  civilization  at  the  fountain-head.  The  poor  fellows 
had  found  as  much  difficulty  in  keeping  alive  at  Clapham  as 
Englishmen  experience  at  Sierra  Leone ;  and,  in  the  end,  their 
tutor  set  up  a  school  for  boys  of  his  own  color,  and  at  one 
time  had  charge  of  almost  the  entire  rising  generation  of  the 
Common.  Mrs.  Macaulay  explained  to  Tom  that  he  must 
learn  to  study  without  the  solace  of  bread-and-butter,  to  which 
he  replied, "  Yes,  mama,  industry  shall  be  my  bread  and  atten- 
tion my  butter."  But,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  no  one  ever  crept 
more  unwillingly  to  school.  Each  several  afternoon  he  made 
piteous  entreaties  to  be  excused  returning  after  dinner,  and 
was  met  by  the  unvarying  formula, "  No,  Tom,  if  it  rains  cats 
and  dogs,  you  shall  go." 

His  reluctance  to  leave  home  had  more  than  one  side  to  it. 
Not  only  did  his  heart  stay  behind,  but  the  regular  lessons  of 
the  class  took  him  away  from  occupations  which  in  his  eyes 
were  infinitely  more  delightful  and  important ;  for  these  were 
probably  the  years  of  his  greatest  literary  activity.  As  an 
author  he  never  again  had  more  facility,  or  any  thing  like  so 
wide  a  range.  In  September,  1808,  his  mother  writes:  "My 


42  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  i. 

dear  Tom  continues  to  show  marks  of  uncommon  genius.  He 
gets  on  wonderfully  in  all  branches  of  his  education,  and  the 
extent  of  his  reading,  and  of  the  knowledge  he  has  derived 
from  it,  are  truly  astonishing  in  a  boy  not  yet  eight  years  old. 
He  is  at  the  same  time  as  playful  as  a  kitten.  To  give  you 
some  idea  of  the  activity  of  his  mind,  I  will  mention  a  few 
circumstances  that  may  interest  you  and  Colin.  You  will  be- 
lieve that  to  him  we  never  appear  to  regard  any  thing  he  does 
as  any  thing  more  than  a  school-boy's  amusement.  He  took 
it  into  his  head  to  write  a  compendium  of  universal  history 
about  a  year  ago,  and  he  really  contrived  to  give  a  tolerably 
connected  view  of  the  leading  events  from  the  Creation  to  the 
present  time,  filling  about  a  quire  of  paper.  He  told  me  one 
day  that  he  had  been  writing  a  paper  which  Henry  Daly  was 
to  translate  into  Malabar,  to  persuade  the  people  of  Travan- 
core  to  embrace  the  Christian  religion.  On  reading  it,  I 
found  it  to  contain  a  very  clear  idea  of  the  leading  facts  and 
doctrines  of  that  religion,  with  some  strong  arguments  for  its 
adoption.  He  was  so  fired  with  reading  Scott's  'Lay'  and 
*  Marmion,'  the  former  of  which  he  got  entirely,  and  the  latter 
almost  entirely,  by  heart,  merely  from  his  delight  in  reading 
them,  that  he  determined  on  writing  himself  a  poem  in  six 
cantos  which  he  called  *  The  Battle  of  Cheviot.'  After  he  had 
finished  about  three  of  the  cantos,  of  about  one  hundred  and 
twenty  lines  each,  which  he  did  in  a  couple  of  days,  he  be- 
came tired  of  it.  I  make  no  doubt  he  would  have  finished  his 
design,  but  as  he  was  proceeding  with  it  the  thought  struck 
him  of  writing  an  heroic  poem  to  be  called  '  Olaus  the  Great ; 
or,  The  Conquest  of  Mona,'  in  which,  after  the  manner  of  Yir- 
gil,  he  might  introduce  in  prophetic  song  the  future  fortunes 
of  the  family — among  others,  those  of  the  hero  who  aided  in 
the  fall  of  the  tyrant  of  Mysore,  after  having  long  suffered 
from  his  tyranny  ;  and  of  another  of  his  race  who  had  exert- 
ed himself  for  the  deliverance  of  the  wretched  Africans.  He 
has  just  begun  it.  He  has  composed  I  know  not  how  many 
hymns.  I  send  you  one  as  a  specimen,  in  his  own  handwrit- 
ing, which  he  wrote  about  six  months  ago  on  one  Monday 
morning  while  we  were  at  breakfast." 


1800-'18.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  43 

The  affection  of  the  last  generation  of  his  relatives  has  pre- 
served all  these  pieces,  but  the  piety  of  this  generation  will 
refrain  from  submitting  them  to  public  criticism.  A  margin- 
al note  in  which  Macaulay  has  expressed  his  cordial  approval 
of  Uncle  Toby's*  remark  about  the  great  Lipsius,  indicates  his 
own  wishes  in  the  matter  too  clearly  to  leave  any  choice  for 
those  who  come  after  him.  But  there  still  may  be  read  in  a 
boyish  scrawl  the  epitome  of  universal  history,  from  "  a  new 
king  who  knew  not  Joseph  "  —  down  through  Rameses,  and 
Dido,  and  Tydeus,  and  Tarquin,  and  Crassus,  and  Gallienus, 
and  Edward  the  Martyr — to  Louis,  who  "  set  off  on  a  crusade 
against  the  Albigenses,"  and  Oliver  Cromwell,  who  "  was 
an  unjust  and  wicked  man."  The  hymns  remain,  which  Mrs. 
Hannah  More,  surely  a  consummate  judge  of  the  article,  pro- 
nounced to  be  "  quite  extraordinary  for  such  a  baby."  To  a 
somewhat  later  period  probably  belongs  a  vast  pile  of  blank 
verse,  entitled  "  Fingal :  a  Poem  in  XII  Books,"  two  of  which 
are  in  a  complete  and  connected  shape,  while  the  rest  of  the 
story  is  lost  amidst  a  labyrinth  of  many  hundred  scatter- 
ed lines,  so  transcribed  as  to  suggest  a  conjecture  that  the 
boy's  demand  for  foolscap  had  outrun  the  paternal  generos- 
ity. 

Of  all  his  performances  that  which  attracted  most  attention 
at  the  time  was  undertaken  for  the  purpose  of  immortalizing 
Olaus  Magnus,  King  of  Norway,  from  whom  the  clan  to  which 
the  bard  belonged  was  supposed  to  derive  its  name.  Two 
cantos  are  extant,  of  which  there  are  several  exemplars,  in  ev- 
ery stage  of  caligraphy  from  the  largest  round-hand  down- 
ward, a  circumstance  which  is  apparently  due  to  the  desire  on 
the  part  of  each  of  the  little  Macaulays  to  possess  a  copy  of 
the  great  family  epic.  The  opening  stanzas,  each  of  which 
contains  more  lines  than  their  author  counted  years,  go  swing- 
ing along  with  plenty  of  animation  and  no  dearth  of  historical 
and  geographical  allusion. 

Day  set  on  Cambria's  hills  supreme, 
And,  Menai,  on  thy  silver  stream. 

*  "  Tristram  Shandy,"  chap,  clxiii. 


44  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  i. 

The  star  of  day  had  reached  the  West. 
Now  in  the  main  it  sunk  to  rest. 
Shone  great  Eleindyn's  castle  tall : 
Shone  every  battery,  every  hall : 
Shone  all  fair  Mona's  verdant  plain ; 
But  chiefly  shone  the  foaming  main. 

And  again : 

"  Long,"  said  the  Prince, "  shall  Olave's  name 
Live  in  the  high  records  of  fame. 
Fair  Mona  now  shall  trembling  stand 
That  ne'er  before  feared  mortal  hand. 
Mona,  that  isle  where  Ceres'  flower 
In  plenteous  autumn's  golden  hour 
Hides  all  the  fields  from  man's  survey 
As  locusts  hid  old  Egypt's  day." 

The  passage  containing  a  prophetic  mention  of  his  father 
and  uncle,  after  the  manner  of  the  sixth  book  of  the  "^Eneid," 
for  the  sake  of  which,  according  to  Mrs.  Macaulay,  the  poem 
was  originally  designed,  can  nowhere  be  discovered.  It  is 
possible  that  in  the  interval  between  the  conception  and  the 
execution  the  boy  happened  to  light  upon  a  copy  of  "  The  Eol- 
liad."  If  such  was  the  case,  he  already  had  too  fine  a  sense 
of  humor  to  have  persevered  in  his  original  plan  after  reading 
that  masterpiece  of  drollery.  It  is  worthy  of  note  that  the 
voluminous  writings  of  his  childhood,  dashed  off  at  headlong 
speed  in  the  odds  and  ends  of  leisure  from  school-study  and 
nursery  routine,  are  not  only  perfectly  correct  in  spelling  and 
grammar,  but  display  the  same  lucidity  of  meaning  and  scru- 
pulous accuracy  in  punctuation  and  the  other  minor  details 
of  the  literary  art,  which  characterize  his  mature  works. 

Nothing  could  be  more  judicious  than  the  treatment  that 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Macaulay  at  this  time  adopted  toward  their  boy. 
They  never  handed  his  productions  about,  or  encouraged  him 
to  parade  his  powers  of  conversation  or  memory.  They  ab- 
stained from  any  word  or  act  which  might  foster  in  him  a  per- 
ception of  his  own  genius  with  as  much  care  as  a  wise  million- 
aire expends  on  keeping  his  son  ignorant  of  the  fact  that  he 
is  destined  to  be  richer  than  his  comrades.  "  It  was  scarcely 


1800-'18.]  LOED  MACAULAY.  45 

ever,"  writes  one  who  knew  him  well  from  the  very  first,  "that 
the  consciousness  was  expressed  by  either  of  his  parents  of  the 
superiority  of  their  son  over  other  children.  Indeed,  with  his 
father  I  never  remember  any  such  expression.  What  I  most 
observed  myself  was  his  extraordinary  command  of  language. 
When  he  came  to  describe  to  his  mother  any  childish  play,  I 
took  care  to  be  present,  when  I  could,  that  I  might  listen  to 
the  way  in  which  he  expressed  himself,  often  scarcely  exceed- 
ed in  his  later  years.  Except  this  trifle,  I  remember  him  only 
as  a  good  -  tempered  boy,  always  occupied,  playing  with  his 
sisters  without  assumption  of  any  kind."  One  effect  of  this 
early  discipline  showed  itself  in  his  freedom  from  vanity  and 
susceptibility,  those  qualities  which,  coupled  together  in  our 
modern  psychological  dialect  under  the  head  of  "self -con- 
sciousness," are  supposed  to  be  the  besetting  defects  of  the  lit- 
erary character.  Another  result  was  his  habitual  overestimate 
of  the  average  knowledge  possessed  by  mankind.  Judging 
others  by  himself,  he  credited  the  world  at  large  with  an 
amount  of  information  which  certainly  few  have  the  ability  to 
acquire  or  the  capacity  to  retain.  If  his  parents  had  not  been 
so  diligent  in  concealing  from  him  the  difference  between  his 
own  intellectual  stores  and  those  of  his  neighbors,  it  is  proba- 
ble that  less  would  have  been  heard  of  Lord  Macaulay's  school- 
boy achievements. 

The  system  pursued  at  home  was  continued  at  Barley  Wood, 
the  place  where  the  Misses  More  resided  from  1802  onward. 
Mrs.  Macaulay  gladly  sent  her  boy  to  a  house  where  he  was 
encouraged  without  being  spoiled,  and  where  he  never  failed 
to  be  a  welcome  guest.  The  kind  old  ladies  made  a  real  com- 
panion of  him,  and  greatly  relished  his  conversation ;  while  at 
the  same  time,  with  their  ideas  on  education,  they  would  never 
have  allowed  him,  even  if  he  had  been  so  inclined,  to  forget 
that  he  was  a  child.  Mrs.  Hannah  More,  who  had  the  rare 
gift  of  knowing  how  to  live  with  both  old  and  young,  was  the 
most  affectionate  and  the  wisest  of  friends,  and  readily  under- 
took the  superintendence  of  his  studies,  his  pleasures,  and  his 
health.  She  would  keep  him  with  her  for  weeks,  listening  to 
him  as  he  read  prose  by  the  ell,  declaimed  poetry  by  the  hour, 


46  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  i. 

and  discussed  and  compared  his  favorite  heroes,  ancient,  mod- 
ern, and  fictitious,  under  all  points  of  view  and  in  every  possi- 
ble combination :  coaxing  him  into  the  garden  under  pretense 
of  a  lecture  on  botany ;  sending  him  from  his  books  to  run 
round  the  grounds,  or  play  at  cooking  in  the  kitchen  ;  giv- 
ing him  Bible-lessons  which  invariably  ended  in  a  theological 
argument,  and  following  him  with  her  advice  and  sympathy 
through  his  multifarious  literary  enterprises.  She  writes  to 
his  father,  in  1809 :  "  I  heartily  hope  that  the  sea-air  has  been 
the  means  of  setting  you  up,  and  Mrs.  Macaulay  also,  and  that 
the  dear  little  poet  has  caught  his  share  of  bracing.  Tell 
Tom  I  desire  to  know  how  '  Olaus '  goes  on.  The  sea,  I  sup- 
pose, furnished  him  with  some  new  images." 

The  broader  and  more  genial  aspect  under  which  life  show- 
ed itself  to  the  boy  at  Barley  Wood  has  left  its  trace  in  a  se- 
ries of  childish  squibs  and  parodies,  which  may  still  be  read 
with  an  interest  that  his  Cambrian  and  Scandinavian  rhapso- 
dies fail  to  inspire.  The  most  ambitious  of  these  lighter  ef- 
forts is  a  pasquinade  occasioned  by  some  local  scandal,  enti- 
tled "  Childe  Hugh  and  the  Laborer :  a  Pathetic  Ballad."  The 
"Childe"  of  the  story  was  a  neighboring  baronet,  and  the 
"Abbot"  a  neighboring  rector,  and  the  whole  performance, 
intended,  as  it  was,  to  mimic  the  spirit  of  Percy's  "  Keliques," 
irresistibly  suggests  a  reminiscence  of  "  John  Gilpin."  It  is 
pleasant  to  know  that  to  Mrs.  Hannah  More  was  due  the  com- 
mencement of  what  eventually  became  the  most  readable  of 
libraries,  as  is  shown  in  a  series  of  letters  extending  over  the 
entire  period  of  Macaulay's  education.  "When  he  was  six 
years  old,  she  writes :  "  Though  you  are  a  little  boy  now,  you 
will  one  day,  if  it  please  God,  be  a  man ;  but  long  before  you 
are  a  man  I  hope  you  will  be  a  scholar.  I  therefore  wish  you 
to  purchase  such  books  as  will  be  useful  and  agreeable  to  you 
tJien,  and  that  you  employ  this  very  small  sum  in  laying  a  lit- 
tle tiny  corner  -  stone  for  your  future  library."  And  a  year 
or  two  afterward  she  thanks  him  for  his  "  two  letters,  so  neat 
and  free  from  blots.  By  this  obvious  improvement  you  have 
entitled  yourself  to  another  book.  You  must  go  to  Hatch- 
ard's  and  choose.  I  think  we  have  nearly  exhausted  the  ep- 


1800-'18.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  47 

ics.  What  say  you  to  a  little  good  prose  ?  Johnson's  "  Heb- 
rides," or  Walton's  "Lives,"  unless  you  would  like  a  neat 
edition  of  "  Cowper's  Poems,"  or  "  Paradise  Lost,"  for  your 
own  eating?  In  any  case,  choose  something  which  you  do 
not  possess.  I  want  you  to  become  a  complete  Frenchman, 
that  I  may  give  you  Racine,  the  only  dramatic  poet  I  know  in 
any  modern  language  that  is  perfectly  pure  and  good.  I  think 
you  have  hit  off  the  Ode  very  well,  and  I  am  much  obliged  to 
you  for  the  Dedication."  The  poor  little  author  was  already 
an  adept  in  the  traditional  modes  of  requiting  a  patron. 

He  had  another  Maecenas  in  the  person  of  General  Macau- 
lay,  who  came  back  from  India  in  1810.  The  boy  greeted 
him  with  a  copy  of  verses,  beginning 

Now  safe  returned  from  Asia's  parching  strand, 
Welcome,  thrice  welcome  to  thy  native  laud. 

To  tell  the  unvarnished  truth,  the  general's  return  was  not 
altogether  of  a  triumphant  character.  After  very  narrowly 
escaping  with  his  life  from  an  outbreak  at  Travancore,  incited 
by  a  native  minister  who  owed  him  a  grudge,  he  had  given 
proof  of  courage  and  spirit  during  some  military  operations 
which  ended  in  his  being  brought  back  to  the  Residency  with 
flying  colors.  But,  when  the  fighting  was  over,  he  counte- 
nanced, and  perhaps  prompted,  measures  of  retaliation  which 
were  ill  taken  by  his  superiors  at  Calcutta.  In  his  congratu- 
latory effusion  the  nephew  presumes  to  remind  the  uncle  that 
on  European  soil  there  still  might  be  found  employment  for 
so  redoubtable  a  sword. 

For  many  a  battle  shall  be  lost  and  won 
Ere  yet  thy  glorious  labors  shall  be  done. 

The  general  did  not  take  the  hint,  and  spent  the  remainder 
of  his  life  peacefully  enough  between  London,  Bath,  and  the 
Continental  capitals.  He  was  accustomed  to  say  that  his  trav- 
eling-carriage was  his  only  freehold;  and,  wherever  he  fixed 
his  temporary  residence,  he  had  the  talent  of  making  himself 
popular.  At  Geneva  he  was  a  universal  favorite ;  he  always 
was  welcome  at  Coppet ;  and  he  gave  the  strongest  conceiva- 


48  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  I. 

ble  proof  of  a  cosmopolitan  disposition  by  finding  himself 
equally  at  home  at  Rome  and  at  Clapham.  "When  in  England, 
he  lived  much  with  his  relations,  to  whom  he  was  sincerely 
attached.  He  was  generous  in  a  high  degree,  and  the  young 
people  owed  to  him  books  which  they  otherwise  could  never 
have  obtained,  and  treats  and  excursions  which  formed  the 
only  recreations  that  broke  the  uniform  current  of  their  lives. 
They  regarded  their  uncle  Colin  as  the  man  of  the  world  of 
the  Macaulay  family. 

Zachary  Macaulay's  circumstances  during  these  years  were 
good,  and  constantly  improving.  For  some  time  he  held  the 
post  of  secretary  to  the  Sierra  Leone  Company,  with  a  salary 
of  £500  per  annum.  He  subsequently  entered  into  partner- 
ship with  a  nephew,  and  the  firm  did  a  large  business  as  Af- 
rican merchants  under  the  names  of  Macaulay  and  Babington. 
The  position  of  the  father  was  favorable  to  the  highest  inter- 
ests of  his  children.  A  boy  has  the  best  chance  of  being  well 
brought  up  in  a  household  where  there  is  solid  comfort  com- 
bined with  thrift  and  simplicity ;  and  the  family  was  increas- 
ing too  fast  to  leave  any  margin  for  luxurious  expenditure. 
Before  the  eldest  son  had  completed  his  thirteenth  year  he 
had  three  brothers  and  five  sisters. 

In  the  course  of  1812  it  began  to  be  evident  that  Tom  had 
got  beyond  the  educational  capabilities  of  Clapham ;  and  his 
father  seriously  contemplated  the  notion  of  removing  to  Lon- 
don in  order  to  place  him  as  a  day -scholar  at  Westminster. 
Thorough  as  was  the  consideration  which  the  parents  gave  to 
the  matter,  their  decision  was  of  more  importance  than  they 
could  at  the  time  foresee.  If  their  son  had  gone  to  a  public 
school,  it  is  more  than  probable  that  he  would  have  turned  out 
a  different  man  and  have  done  different  work.  So  sensitive 
and  home-loving  a  boy  might  for  a  while  have  been  too  de- 
pressed to  enter  fully  into  the  ways  of  the  place ;  but,  as  he 
gained  confidence,  he  could  not  have  withstood  the  irresistible 
attractions  which  the  life  of  a  great  school  exercises  over  a 
vivid,  eager  nature,  and  he  would  have  sacrificed  to  passing 
pleasures  and  emulations  a  part,  at  any  rate,  of  those  years 
which,  in  order  to  be  what  he  was,  it  was  necessary  that  he 


1800-'18.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  49 

should  spend  wholly  among  his  books.  Westminster  or  Har- 
row might  have  sharpened  his  faculties  for  dealing  with  affairs 
and  with  men,  but  the  world  at  large  would  have  lost  more 
than  he  could  by  any  possibility  have  gained.  If  Macaulay 
had  received  the  usual  education  of  a  young  Englishman,  he 
might  in  all  probability  have  kept  his  seat  for  Edinburgh,  but 
he  could  hardly  have  written  the  essay  on  Von  Ranke,  or  the 
description  of  England  in  the  third  chapter  of  the  "  History." 

Mr.  Macaulay  ultimately  fixed  upon  a  private  school,  kept 
by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Preston,  at  Little  Shelford,  a  village  in  the 
immediate  vicinity  of  Cambridge.  The  motives  which  guided 
this  selection  were  mainly  of  a  religious  nature.  Mr.  Preston 
held  extreme  Low -church  opinions,  and  stood  in  the  good 
books  of  Mr.  Simeon,  whose  word  had  long  been  law  in  the 
Cambridge  section  of  the  evangelical  circle.  But,  whatever 
had  been  the  inducement  to  make  it,  the  choice  proved  singu- 
larly fortunate.  The  tutor,  it  is  true,  was  narrow  in  his  views, 
and  lacked  the  taste  and  judgment  to  set  those  views  before 
his  pupils  in  an  attractive  form.  Theological  topics  dragged 
into  the  conversation  at  unexpected  moments,  inquiries  about 
their  spiritual  state,  and  long  sermons  which  had  to  be  listened 
to  under  the  dire  obligation  of  reproducing  them  in  an  epit- 
ome, fostered  in  the  minds  of  some  of  the  boys  a  reaction 
against  the  outward  manifestations  of  religion  —  a  reaction 
which  had  already  begun  under  the  strict  system  pursued  in 
their  respective  homes.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  Mr.  Preston 
knew  both  how  to  teach  his  scholars,  and  when  to  leave  them 
to  teach  themselves.  The  eminent  judge  who  divided  grown 
men  into  two  sharply  defined  and  most  uncomplimentary  cat- 
egories was  accustomed  to  say  that  private  schools  made  poor 
creatures,  and  public  schools  sad  dogs ;  but  Mr.  Preston  suc- 
ceeded in  giving  a  practical  contradiction  to  Sir  William 
Maule's  proposition.  His  pupils,  who  were  limited  to  an  av- 
erage of  a  dozen  at  a  time,  got  far  beyond  their  share  of  hon- 
ors at  the  university  and  of  distinction  in  after-life.  George 
Stainforth,  a  grandson  of  Sir  Francis  Baring,  by  his  success 
at  Cambridge  was  the  first  to  win  the  school  an  honorable 
name,  which  was  more  than  sustained  by  Henry  Maiden,  now 

VOL.  L— 4 


50  LITE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  i. 

Greek  Professor  at  University  College,  London,  and  by  Mae- 
aulay  himself.  Shelford  was  strongly  under  the  influence  of 
the  neighboring  university :  an  influence  which  Mr.  Preston, 
himself  an  ex -fellow  of  Trinity,  wisely  encouraged.  The 
boys  were  penetrated  with  Cambridge  ambitions  and  ways 
of  thought,  and  frequent  visitors  brought  to  the  table,  where 
master  and  pupils  dined  in  common,  the  freshest  Cambridge 
gossip  of  the  graver  sort. 

Little  Macaulay  received  much  kindness  from  Dean  Milner, 
the  president  of  Queen's  College,  then  at  the  very  summit  of 
a  celebrity  which  is  already  of  the  past.  Those  who  care  to 
search  among  the  embers  of  that  once  brilliant  reputation  can 
form  a  fair  notion  of  what  Samuel  Johnson  would  have  been 
if  he  had  lived  a  generation  later,  and  had  been  absolved  from 
the  necessity  of  earning  his  bread  by  the  enjoyment  of  eccle- 
siastical sinecures,  and  from  any  uneasiness  as  to  his  worldly 
standing  by  the  possession  of  academical  dignities  and  func- 
tions. The  dean,  who  had  boundless  good-will  for  all  his  fel- 
low-creatures at  every  period  of  life,  provided  that  they  were 
not  Jacobins  or  skeptics,  recognized  the  promise  of  the  boy, 
and  entertained  him  at  his  college  residence  on  terms  of  friend- 
liness and  almost  of  equality.  After  one  of  these  visits,  he 
writes  to  Mr.  Macaulay :  "  Your  lad  is  a  fine  fellow.  He  shall 
stand  before  kings.  He  shall  not  stand  before  mean  men." 

Shelford,  February  22d,  1813. 

MY  DEAR  PAPA, — As  this  is  a  whole  holiday,  I  can  not  find 
a  better  time  for  answering  your  letter.  With  respect  to  my 
health,  I  am  very  well,  and  tolerably  cheerful,  as  Blundell,  the 
best  and  most  clever  of  all  the  scholars,  is  very  kind,  and  talks 
to  me,  and  takes  my  part.  He  is  quite  a  friend  of  Mr.  Pres- 
ton's. The  other  boys,  especially  Lyon,  a  Scotch  boy,  and 
Wilberforce,  are  very  good-natured,  and  we  might  have  gone 

on  very  well  had  not  one ,  a  Bristol  fellow,  come  here. 

He  is  unanimously  allowed  to  be  a  queer  fellow,  and  is  gener- 
ally characterized  as  a  foolish  boy,  and  by  most  of  us  as  an  ill- 
natured  one.  In  my  learning  I  do  Xenophon  every  day,  and 
twice  a  week  the  "  Odyssey,"  in  which  I  am  classed  with  Wil- 


1800-'18.]  LOKD  MACAULAY.  51 

berforce,  whom  all  the  boys  allow  to  be  very  clever,  very 
droll,  and  very  impudent.  "We  do  Latin  verses  twice  a  week, 
and  I  have  not  yet  been  laughed  at,  as  Wilberf  orce  is  the  only 
one  who  hears  them,  being  in  my  class.  We  are  exercised 
also  once  a  week  in  English  composition,  and  once  in  Latin 
composition,  and  letters  of  persons  renowned  in  history  to 
each  other.  We  get  by  heart  Greek  grammar  or  Virgil  every 
evening.  As  for  sermon-writing,  I  have  hitherto  got  off  with 
credit,  and  I  hope  I  shall  keep  up  my  reputation.  We  have 
had  the  first  meeting  of  our  debating  society  the  other  day, 
when  a  vote  of  censure  was  moved  for  upon  Wilberf  orce ;  but 
he,  getting  up,  said,  "  Mr.  President,  I  beg  to  second  the  mo- 
tion." By  this  means  he  escaped.  The  kindness  which  Mr. 
Preston  shows  me  is  very  great.  He  always  assists  me  in 
what  I  can  not  do,  and  takes  me  to  walk  out  with  him  every 
now  and  then.  My  room  is  a  delightful,  snug  little  chamber, 
which  nobody  can  enter,  as  there  is  a  trick  about  opening  the 
door.  I  sit  like  a  king,  with  my  writing-desk  before  me ;  for 
(would  you  believe  it  ?)  there  is  a  writing-desk  in  my  chest  of 
drawers  ;  my  books  on  one  side,  my  box  of  papers  on  the  oth- 
er, with  my  arm-chair  and  my  candle ;  for  every  boy  has  a 
candlestick,  snuffers,  and  extinguisher  of  his  own.  Being 
pressed  for  room,  I  will  conclude  what  I  have  to  say  to-mor- 
row, and  ever  remain  your  affectionate  son, 

THOMAS  B.  MACAULAY. 

The  youth  who  on  this  occasion  gave  proof  of  his  parent- 
age by  his  readiness  and  humor  was  Wilberforce's  eldest  son. 
A  fortnight  later  on,  the  subject  chosen  for  discussion  was 
"  whether  Lord  Wellington  or  Marlborough  was  the  greatest 
general.  A  very  warm  debate  is  expected." 

Sbelford,  April  20th,  1813. 

MY  DEAR  MAMA, — Pursuant  to  my  promise,  I  resume  my 
pen  to  write  to  you  with  the  greatest  pleasure.  Since  I  wrote 
to  you  yesterday,  I  have  enjoyed  myself  more  than  I  have 
ever  done  since  I  came  to  Shelf  ord.  Mr.  Hodson  called  about 
twelve  o'clock  yesterday  morning  with  a  pony  for  me,  and 


52  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  i. 

took  me  with  him  to  Cambridge.  How  surprised  and  delight- 
ed was  I  to  learn  that  I  was  to  take  a  bed  at  Queen's  College 
in  Dean  Milner's  apartments !  Wilberf  orce  arrived  soon  aft- 
er, and  I  spent  the  day  very  agreeably,  the  dean  amusing  me 
with  the  greatest  kindness.  I  slept  there,  and  came  home  on 
horseback  to-day  just  in  time  for  dinner.  The  dean  has  in- 
vited me  to  come  again,  and  Mr.  Preston  has  given  his  con- 
sent. The  books  which  I  am  at  present  .employed  in  reading 
to  myself  are,  in  English,  "Plutarch's  Lives,"  and  Milner's 
"  Ecclesiastical  History  ;"  in  French,  Fenelon's  "  Dialogues  of 
the  Dead."  I  shall  send  you  back  the  volumes  of  Madame 
de  Genlis's  petits  romo/ns  as  soon  as  possible,  and  I  should  be 
very  much  obliged  for  one  or  two  more  of  them.  Every 
thing  now  seems  to  feel  the  influence  of  spring.  The  trees 
are  all  out.  The  lilacs  are  in  bloom.  The  days  are  long,  and 
I  feel  that  I  should  be  happy  were  it  not  that  I  want  home. 
Even  yesterday,  when  I  felt  more  real  satisfaction  than  I  have 
done  for  almost  three  months,  I  could  not  help  feeling  a  sort 
of  uneasiness,  which  indeed  I  have  always  felt  more  or  less 
since  I  have  been  here,  and  which  is  the  only  thing  that  hin- 
ders me  from  being  perfectly  happy.  This  day  two  months 
will  put  a  period  to  my  uneasiness. 

Fly  fast  the  hours,  and  dawn  th'  expected  morn. 

Every  night  when  I  lie  down  I  reflect  that  another  day  is  cut 
off  from  the  tiresome  time  of  absence. 

Your  affectionate  son,  THOMAS  B.  MACAULAY. 

Shelford,  April  26th,  1813. 

MY  DEAR  PAPA, — Since  I  have  given  you  a  detail  of  weekly 
duties,  I  hope  you  will  be  pleased  to  be  informed  of  my  Sun- 
day's occupations.  It  is  quite  a  day  of  rest  here,  and  I  real- 
ly look  to  it  with  pleasure  through  the  whole  of  the  week. 
After  breakfast  we  learn  a  chapter  in  the  Greek  Testament, 
that  is,  with  the  aid  of  our  Bibles,  and  without  doing  it  with  a 
dictionary,  like  other  lessons.  We  then  go  to  church.  We 
dine  almost  as  soon  as  we  come  back,  and  we  are  left  to  our- 
selves till  afternoon  church.  During  this  time  I  employ  my- 


1800-'18.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  53 

self  in  reading,  and  Mr.  Preston  lends  me  any  books  for  which 
I  ask  him,  so  that  I  am  nearly  as  well  off  in  this  respect  as  at 
home,  except  for  one  thing,  which,  though  I  believe  it  is  use- 
ful, is  not  very  pleasant — I  can  only  ask  for  one  book  at  a 
time,  and  can  not  touch  another  till  I  have  read  it  through. 
We  then  go  to  church,  and  after  we  come  back  I  read  as  be- 
fore till  tea-time.  After  tea  we  write  out  the  sermon.  I  can 
not  help  thinking  that  Mr.  Preston  uses  all  imaginable  means 
to  make  us  forget  it,  for  he  gives  us  a  glass  of  wine  each  on 
Sunday,  and  on  Sunday  only,  the  very  day  when  we  want 
to  have  all  our  faculties  awake ;  and  some  do  literally  go  to 
sleep  during  the  sermon,  and  look  rather  silly  when  they 
wake.  I,  however,  have  not  fallen  into  this  disaster. 

Your  affectionate  son,  THOMAS  B.  MACAULAY. 

The  constant  allusions  to  home  politics  and  to  the  progress 
of  the  Continental  struggle,  which  occur  throughout  Zacha- 
ry  Macaulay's  correspondence  with  his  son,  prove  how  freely, 
and  on  what  an  equal  footing,  the  parent  and  child  already 
conversed  on  questions  of  public  interest.  The  following  let- 
ter is  curious  as  a  specimen  of  the  eagerness  with  which  the 
boy  habitually  flung  himself  into  the  subjects  which  occupied 
his  father's  thoughts.  The  renewal  of  the  East  India  Com- 
pany's charter  was  just  then  under  the  consideration  of  Par- 
liament, and  the  whole  energies  of  the  Evangelical  party  were 
exerted  in  order  to  signalize  the  occasion  by  securing  our 
Eastern  dominions  as  a  field  for  the  spread  of  Christianity. 
Petitions  against  the  continued  exclusion  of  missionaries  were 
in  course  of  circulation  throughout  the  island,  the  drafts  of 
which  had  been  prepared  by  Mr.  Macaulay. 

Shelford,  May  8th,  1813. 

MY  DEAR  PAPA, — As  on  Monday  it  will  be  out  of  my  power 
to  write,  since  the  examination  subjects  are  to  be  given  out 
then,  I  write  to-day  instead  to  answer  your  kind  and  long  let- 
ter. I  am  very  much  pleased  that  the  nation  seems  to  take 
such  interest  in  the  introduction  of  Christianity  into  India. 
My  Scotch  blood  begins  to  boil  at  the  mention  of  the  seven- 


54  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  i. 

teen  hundred  and  fifty  names  that  went  up  from  a  single 
country  parish.  Ask  Mama  and  Selina  if  they  do  not  now 
admit  my  argument  with  regard  to  the  superior  advantages 
of  the  Scotch  over  the  English  peasantry. 

As  to  my  examination  preparations,  I  will,  if  you  please, 
give  you  a  sketch  of  my  plan.  On  Monday,  the  day  on  which 
the  examination  subjects  are  given  out,  I  shall  begin.  My 
first  performance  will  be  my  verses  and  my  declamation.  I 
shall  then  translate  the  Greek  and  Latin.  The  first  time  of 
going  over  I  shall  mark  the  passages  which  puzzle  me,  and 
then  return  to  them  again.  But  I  shall  have  also  to  rub  up 
my  mathematics  (by-the-bye,  I  begin  the  second  book  of  Eu- 
clid to-day),  and  to  study  whatever  history  may  be  appointed 
for  the  examination.  I  shall  not  be  able  to  avoid  trembling, 
whether  I  know  my  subjects  or  not.  I  am,  however,  intimi- 
dated at  nothing  but  Greek.  Mathematics  suit  my  taste,  al- 
though, before  I  came,  I  declaimed  against  them,  and  asserted 
that,  when  I  went  to  college,  it  should  not  be  to  Cambridge. 
I  am  occupied  with  the  hope  of  lecturing  Mama  and  Selina 
upon  mathematics,  as  I  used  to  do  upon  heraldry,  and  to 
change  Or,  and  Argent,  and  Azure,  and  Gules,  for  squares, 
and  points,  and  circles,  and  angles,  and  triangles,  and  rectan- 
gles, and  rhomboids,  and,  in  a  word,  "  all  the  pomp  and  cir- 
cumstance "  of  Euclid.  When  I  come  home,  I  shall,  if  my 
purse  is  sufficient,  bring  a  couple  of  rabbits  for  Selina  and 
Jane.  Your  affectionate  son, 

THOMAS  B.  MACAULAY. 

It  will  be  seen  that  this  passing  fondness  for  mathematics 
soon  changed  into  bitter  disgust. 

Clapham,  May  28th,  1813. 

MY  DEAR  TOM, — I  am  very  happy  to  hear  that  you  have  so 
far  advanced  in  your  different  prize  exercises,  and  with  such 
little  fatigue.  I  know  you  write  with  great  ease  to  yourself, 
and  would  rather  write  ten  poems  than  prune  one ;  but  re- 
member that  excellence  is  not  attained  at  first.  All  your 
pieces  are  much  mended  after  a  little  reflection,  and  therefore 


1800-'18.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  55 

take  some  solitary  walks,  and  think  over  each  separate  thing. 
Spare  no  time  or  trouble  to  render  each  piece  as  perfect 
as  you  can,  and  then  leave  the  event  without  one  anxious 
thought.  I  have  always  admired  a  saying  of  one  of  the  old 
heathen  philosophers.  When  a  friend  was  condoling  with 
him  that  he  so  well  deserved  of  the  gods,  and  yet  that  they 
did  not  shower  their  favors  on  him,  as  on  some  others  less 
worthy,  he  answered,  "I  will,  however,  continue  to  deserve 
well  of  them."  So  do  you,  my  dearest.  Do  your  best,  be- 
cause it  is  the  will  of  God  you  should  improve  every  faculty 
to  the  utmost  now,  and  strengthen  the  powers  of  your  mind 
by  exercise,  and  then  in  future  you  will  be  better  enabled  to 
glorify  God  with  all  your  powers  and  talents,  be  they  of  a 
more  humble  or  higher  order,  and  you  shall  not  fail  to  be  re- 
ceived into  everlasting  habitations,  with  the  applauding  voice 
of  your  Saviour,  "Well  done,  good  and  faithful  servant." 
You  see  how  ambitious  your  mother  is.  She  must  have  the 
wisdom  of  her  son  acknowledged  before  angels,  and  an  assem- 
bled world.  My  wishes  can  soar  no  higher,  and  they  can  be 
content  with  nothing  less  for  any  of  my  children.  The  first 
time  I  saw  your  face,  I  repeated  those  beautiful  lines  of  Watts's 
cradle  hymn, 

Mayst  thou  live  to  know  and  fear  Him, 

Trust  and  love  Him  all  thy  days, 
Then  go  dwell  forever  uear  Him, 

See  His  face,  and  sing  His  praise : 

and  this  is  the  substance  of  all  my  prayers  for  you.  In  less 
than  a  month  you  and  I  shall,  I  trust,  be  rambling  over  the 
Common,  which  now  looks  quite  beautiful. 

I  am  ever,  my  dear  Tom,  your  affectionate  mother, 

SELINA  MACAULAY. 

The  commencement  of  the  second  half-year  at  school,  per- 
haps the  darkest  season  of  a  boy's  existence,  was  marked  by 
an  unusually  severe  and  prolonged  attack  of  home  -  sickness. 
It  would  be  cruel  to  insert  the  first  letter  written  after  the  re- 
turn to  Shelford  from  the  summer  holidays.  That  which  fol- 
lows it  is  melancholy  enough. 


56  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  i. 

Shelford,  August  14th,  1813. 

MY  DEAK  MAMA, — I  must  confess  that  I  have  been  a  little 
disappointed  at  not  receiving  a  letter  from  home  to-day.  I 
hope,  however, -for  one  to-morrow.  My  spirits  are  far  more 
depressed  by  leaving  home  than  they  were  last  half-year.  Ev- 
ery thing  brings  home  to  my  recollection.  Every  thing  I  read, 
or  see,  or  hear,  brings  it  to  my  mind.  You  told  me  I  should  be 
happy  when  I  once  came  here,  but  not  an  hour  passes  in  which 
I  do  not  shed  tears  at  thinking  of  home.  Every  hope,  how- 
ever unlikely  to  be  realized,  affords  me  some  small  consolation. 
The  morning  on  which  I  went,  you  told  me  that  possibly  I 
might  come  home  before  the  holidays.  If  you  can  confirm 
this  hope,  believe  me  when  I  assure  you  that  there  is  nothing 
which  I  would  not  give  for  one  instant's  sight  of  home.  Tell 
me  in  your  next,  expressly,  if  you  can,  whether  or  no  there  is 
any  likelihood  of  my  coming  home  before  the  holidays.  If  I 
could  gain  papa's  leave,  I  should  select  my  birthday  on  Octo- 
ber 25th  as  the  time  which  I  should  wish  to  spend  at  that  home 
which  absence  renders  still  dearer  to  me.  I  think  I  see  you 
sitting  by  papa  just  after  his  dinner,  reading  my  letter,  and 
turning  to  him,  with  an  inquisitive  glance,  at  the  end  of  the 
paragraph.  I  think  too  that  I  see  his  expressive  shake  of  the 
head  at  it.  Oh,  may  I  be  mistaken !  You  can  not  conceive 
what  an  alteration  a  favorable  answer  would  produce  in  me. 
If  your  approbation  of  my  request  depends  upon  my  advan- 
cing in  study,  I  will  work  like  a  cart-horse.  If  you  should  re- 
fuse it,  you  will  deprive  me  of  the  most  pleasing  illusion  which 
I  ever  experienced  in  my  life.  Pray  do  not  fail  to  write 
speedily.  Your  dutiful  and  affectionate  son, 

T.  B.  MACAULAY. 

His  father  answered  him  in  a  letter  of  strong  religious  com- 
plexion, full  of  feeling  and  even  of  beauty,  but  too  long  for 
reproduction  in  a  biography  that  is  not  his  own. 

Mr.  Macaulay's  deep  anxiety  for  his  son's  welfare  some- 
times induced  him  to  lend  too  ready  an  ear  to  busybodies  who 
informed  him  of  failings  in  the  boy  which  would  have  been 
treated  more  lightly,  and  perhaps  more  wisely,  by  a  less  de- 

1 


1800-18.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  57 

voted  father.  In  the  early  months  of  1814  he  writes  as  fol- 
lows, after  hearing  the  tale  of  some  guest  of  Mr.  Preston  whom 
Tom  had  no  doubt  contradicted  at  table  in  presence  of  the  as- 
sembled household : 

London,  March  4th,  1814. 

MY  DEAB  TOM, — In  taking  up  my  pen  this  morning  a  pas- 
sage in  Cowper  almost  involuntarily  occurred  to  me.  You 
will  find  it  at  length  in  his  "  Conversation." 

Ye  powers  who  rule  the  tongue,  if  such  there  are, 
And  make  colloquial  happiness  your  care, 
Preserve  me  from  the  thing  I  dread  and  hate, 
A  duel  in  the  form  of  a  debate. 
Vociferated  logic  kills  me  quite. 
A  noisy  man  is  always  in  the  right. 

You  know  how  much  such  a  quotation  as  this  would  fall  in 
with  my  notions — averse  as  I  am  to  loud  and  noisy  tones,  and 
self-confident,  overwhelming,  and  yet  perhaps  very  unsound 
arguments.  And  you  will  remember  how  anxiously  I  dwelt 
upon  this  point  while  you  were  at  home.  I  have  been  in 
hopes  that  this  half-year  would  witness  a  great  change  in  you 
in  this  respect.  My  hopes,  however,  have  been  a  little  damped 
by  something  which  I  heard  last  week  through  a  friend,  who 
seemed  to  have  received  an  impression  that  you  had  gained  a 
high  distinction  among  the  young  gentlemen  at  Shelford  by 
the  loudness  and  vehemence  of  your  tones.  Now,  my  dear 
Tom,  you  can  not  doubt  that  this  gives  me  pain ;  and  it  does 
so,  not  so  much  on  account  of  the  thing  itself,  as  because  I 
consider  it  a  pretty  infallible  test  of  the  mind  within.  I  do 
long  and  pray  most  earnestly  that  the  ornament  of  a  meek 
and  quiet  spirit  may  be  substituted  for  vehemence  and  self- 
confidence,  and  that  you  may  be  as  much  distinguished  for  the 
former  as  ever  you  have  been  for  the  latter.  It  is  a  school  in 
which  I  am  not  ambitious  that  any  child  of  mine  should  take 
a  high  degree. 

If  the  people  of  Shelford  be  as  bad  as  you  represent  them 
in  your  letters,  what  are  they  but  an  epitome  of  the  world  at 
large  ?  Are  they  ungrateful  to  you  for  your  kindnesses  ?  Are 


58  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  j. 

they  foolish,  and  wicked,  and  wayward  in  the  use  of  their  fac- 
ulties ?  What  is  all  this  but  what  we  ourselves  are  guilty  of 
every  day  ?  Consider  how  much  in  our  case  the  guilt  of  such 
conduct  is  aggravated  by  our  superior  knowledge.  "We  shall 
not  have  ignorance  to  plead  in  its  extenuation,  as  many  of  the 
people  of  Shelf ord  may  have.  Now,  instead  of  railing  at  the 
people  of  Shelf  ord,  I  think  the  best  thing  which  you  and  your 
school-fellows  could  do  would  be  to  try  to  reform  them.  You 
can  buy  and  distribute  useful  and  striking  tracts,  as  well  as 
Testaments,  among  such  as  can  read.  The  cheap  Repository 
and  Eeligious  Tract  Society  will  furnish  tracts  suited  to  all 
descriptions  of  persons ;  and  for  those  who  can  not  read — why 
should  you  not  institute  a  Sunday  -  school,  to  be  taught  by 
yourselves,  and  in  which,  appropriate  rewards  being  given  for 
good  behavior,  not  only  at  school  but  through  the  week, 
great  effects  of  a  moral  kind  might  soon  be  produced  ?  I  have 
exhausted  my  paper,  and  must  answer  the  rest  of  your  letter 
in  a  few  days.  In  the  mean  time, 

I  am  ever  your  most  affectionate  father, 

ZACHAEY  MACAULAY. 

A  father's  prayers  are  seldom  fulfilled  to  the  letter.  Many 
years  were  to  elapse  before  the  son  ceased  to  talk  loudly  and 
with  confidence,  and  the  literature  that  he  was  destined  to 
distribute  through  the  world  was  of  another  order  from  that 
which  Mr.  Macaulay  here  suggests.  The  answer,  which  is  ad- 
dressed to  the  mother,  affords  a  proof  that  the  boy  could  al- 
ready hold  his  own.  The  allusions  to  the  Christian  Observer, 
of  which  his  father  was  editor,  and  to  Dr.  Herbert  Marsh, 
with  whom  the  ablest  pens  of  Clapham  were  at  that  moment 
engaged  in  hot  and  imbittered  controversy,  are  thrown  in 
with  an  artist's  hand. 

Shelford,  April  llth,  1814. 

MY  DEAR  MAMA, — The  news  is  glorious  indeed.  Peace! 
peace  with  a  Bourbon,  with  a  descendant  of  Henri  Quatre, 
with  a  prince  who  is  bound  to  us  by  all  the  ties  of  gratitude  ! 
I  have  some  hopes  that  it  will  be  a  lasting  peace,  that  the 
troubles  of  the  last  twenty  years  may  make  kings  and  nations 


1800-18.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  59 

wiser.  I  can  not  conceive  a  greater  punishment  to  Bonaparte 
than  that  which  the  allies  have  inflicted  on  him.  How  can 
his  ambitious  mind  support  it  ?  All  his  great  projects  and 
schemes  which  once  made  every  throne  in  Europe  tremble  are 
buried  in  the  solitude  of  an  Italian  isle.  How  miraculously 
every  thing  has  been  conducted !  We  almost  seem  to  hear 
the  Almighty  saying  to  the  fallen  tyrant, "  For  this  cause  have 
I  raised  thee  up,  that  I  might  show  in  thee  My  power." 

As  I  am  in  very  great  haste  with  this  letter,  I  shall  have  but 
little  time  to  write.  I  am  sorry  to  hear  that  some  nameless 
friend  of  papa's  denounced  my  voice  as  remarkably  loud.  I 
have  accordingly  resolved  to  speak  in  a  moderate  key  except 
on  the  undermentioned  special  occasions.  Imprimis,  when  I 
am  speaking  at  the  same  time  with  three  others.  Secondly, 
when  I  am  praising  the  Christian  Observer.  Thirdly,  when  I 
am  praising  Mr.  Preston  or  his  sisters,  I  may  be  allowed  to 
speak  in  my  loudest  voice,  that  they  may  hear  me. 

I  saw  to-day  that  greatest  of  churchmen,  that  pillar  of  Or- 
thodoxy, that  true  friend  to  the  Liturgy,  that  mortal  enemy 
to  the  Bible  Society,  Herbert  Marsh,  D.D.,  Professor  of  Divin- 
ity on  Lady  Margaret's  foundation.  I  stood  looking  at  him 
for  about  ten  minutes,  and  shall  always  continue  to  maintain 
that  he  is  a  very  ill-favored  gentleman  as  far  as  outward  ap- 
pearance is  concerned.  I  am  going  this  week  to  spend  a  day 
or  two  at  Dean  Milner's,  where  I  hope,  nothing  unforeseen 
preventing,  to  see  you  in  about  two  months'  time. 

Ever  your  affectionate  son,  T.  B.  MACAULAY. 

In  the  course  of  the  year  1814  Mr.  Preston  removed  his  es- 
tablishment to  Aspenden  Hall,  near  Buntingford,  in  Hertford- 
shire— a  large  old-fashioned  mansion,  standing  amidst  exten- 
sive shrubberies  and  a  pleasant,  undulating  domain,  sprinkled 
with  fine  timber.  The  house  has  been  rebuilt  within  the  last 
twenty  years,  and  nothing  remains  of  it  except  the  dark  oak 
paneling  of  the  hall  in  which  the  scholars  made  their  recita- 
tions on  the  annual  speech-day.  The  very  pretty  church, 
which  stands  hard  by  within  the  grounds,  was  undergoing 
restoration  in  1873 ;  and  by  this  time  the  only  existing  por- 


60  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  i. 

tion  of  the  former  internal  fittings  is  the  family  pew,  in  which 
the  boys  sat  on  drowsy  summer  afternoons,  doing  what  they 
could  to  keep  their  impressions  of  the  second  sermon  distinct 
from  their  reminiscences  of  the  morning.  Here  Macaulay 
spent  four  most  industrious  years,  doing  less  and  less  in  the 
class-room  as  time  went  on,  but  enjoying  the  rare  advantage 
of  studying  Greek  and  Latin  by  the  side  of  such  a  scholar  as 
Maiden.  The  two  companions  were  equally  matched  in  age 
and  classical  attainments,  and  at  the  university  maintained  a 
rivalry  so  generous  as  hardly  to  deserve  the  name.  Each  of 
the  pupils  had  his  own  chamber,  which  the  others  were  for- 
bidden to  enter  under  the  penalty  of  a  shilling  fine.  This 
prohibition  was  in  general  not  very  strictly  observed,  but  the 
tutor  had  taken  the  precaution  of  placing  Macaulay  in  the 
room  next  his  own :  a  proximity  which  rendered  the  position 
of  an  intruder  so  exceptionally  dangerous  that  even  Maiden 
could  not  remember  having  once  passed  his  friend's  threshold 
during  the  whole  of  their  stay  at  Aspenden. 

In  this  seclusion,  removed  from  the  delight  of  family  inter- 
course (the  only  attraction  strong  enough  to  draw  him  from 
his  books),  the  boy  read  widely,  unceasingly,  more  than  rap- 
idly. The  secret  of  his  immense  acquirements  lay  in  two 
invaluable  gifts  of  nature :  an  unerring  memory,  and  the  ca- 
pacity for  taking  in  at  a  glance  the  contents  of  a  printed 
page.  During  the  first  part  of  his  life  he  remembered  what- 
ever caught  his  fancy,  without  going  through  the  process  of 
consciously  getting  it  by  heart.  As  a  child,  during  one  of  the 
numerous  seasons  when  the  social  duties  devolved  upon  Mr. 
Macaulay,  he  accompanied  his  father  on  an  afternoon  call, 
and  found  on  a  table  the  "  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel,"  which 
he  had  never  before  met  with.  He  kept  himself  quiet  with 
his  prize  while  the  elders  were  talking,  and  on  his  return 
home  sat  down  upon  his  mother's  bed,  and  repeated  to  her  as 
many  cantos  as  she  had  the  patience  or  the  strength  to  listen 
to.  At  one  period  of  his  life  he  was  known  to  say  that,  if  by 
some  miracle  of  vandalism  all  copies  of  "  Paradise  Lost "  and 
"  The  Pilgrim's  Progress  "  were  destroyed  off  the  face  of  the 
earth,  he  would  undertake  to  reproduce  them  both  from  recol- 


1800-'18.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  61 

lection  whenever  a  revival  of  learning  came.  In  1813,  while 
waiting  in  a  Cambridge  coffee-room  for  a  post-chaise  which 
was  to  take  him  to  his  school,  he  picked  up  a  county  news- 
paper containing  two  such  specimens  of  provincial  poetical 
talent  as  in  those  days  might  be  read  in  the  corner  of  any 
weekly  journal.  One  piece  was  headed  "  Reflections  of  an 
Exile,"  while  the  other  was  a  trumpery  parody  on  the  Welsh 
ballad  "Ar  hyd  y  nos,"  referring  to  some  local  anecdote  of  an 
hostler  whose  nose  had  been  bitten  off  by  a  filly.  He  looked 
them  once  through,  and  never  gave  them  a  thought  for  forty 
years,  at  the  end  of  which  time  he  repeated  them  both  with- 
out missing,  or,  as  far  as  he  knew,  changing,  a  single  word. 

As  he  grew  older,  this  wonderful  power  became  impaired 
so  far  that  getting  by  rote  the  compositions  of  others  was  no 
longer  an  involuntary  process..  He  has  noted  in  his  Lucan 
the  several  occasions  on  which  he  committed  to  memory  his 
favorite  passages  of  an  author  whom  he  regarded  as  unrivaled 
among  rhetoricians,  and  the  dates  refer  to  the  year  1836,  when 
he  had  just  turned  the  middle  point  of  life.  During  his  last 
years,  at  his  dressing-table  in  the  morning,  he  would  learn  by 
heart  one  of  the  little  idyls  in  which  Martial  expatiates  on  the 
enjoyments  of  a  Spanish  country-house  or  a  villa-farm  in  the 
environs  of  Rome  —  those  delicious  morsels  of  verse  which 
(considering  the  sense  that  modern  ideas  attach  to  the  name) 
it  is  an  injustice  to  class  under  the  head  of  epigrams. 

Macaulay's  extraordinary  faculty  of  assimilating  printed 
matter  at  first  sight  remained  the  same  through  life.  To  the 
end  he  read  books  faster  than  other  people  skimmed  them, 
and  skimmed  them  as  fast  as  any  one  else  could  turn  the 
leaves.  "  He  seemed  to  read  through  the  skin,"  said  one  who 
had  often  watched  the  operation.  And  this  speed  was  not  in 
his  case  obtained  at  the  expense  of  accuracy.  Any  thing 
which  had  once  appeared  in  type,  from  the  highest  effort  of 
genius  down  to  the  most  detestable  trash  that  ever  consumed 
ink  and  paper  manufactured  for  better  things,  had  in  his  eyes 
an  authority  which  led  him  to  look  upon  misquotation  as  a 
species  of  minor  sacrilege. 

"With  these  endowments,  sharpened  by  an  insatiable  curiosi- 


62  LIFE  AtfD  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  I. 

ty,  from  his  fourteenth  year  onward  he  was  permitted  to  roam 
almost  at  will  over  the  whole  expanse  of  literature.  He  com- 
posed little  beyond  his  school  exercises,  which  themselves  bear 
signs  of  having  been  written  in  a  perfunctory  manner.  At 
this  period  he  had  evidently  no  heart  in  any  thing  but  his 
reading.  Before  leaving  Shelford  for  Aspenden  he  had  al- 
ready invoked  the  epic  muse  for  the  last  time. 

Arms  and  the  man  I  sing  who  strove  in  vain 
To  save  green  Erin  from  a  foreign  reign. 

The  man  was  Roderic,  King  of  Connaught,  whom  he  got  tired 
of  singing  before  he  had  well  completed  two  books  of  the 
poem.  Thenceforward  he  appears  never  to  have  struck  his 
lyre  except  in  the  first  enthusiasm  aroused  by  the  intelligence 
of  some  favorable  turn  of  fortune  on  the  Continent.  The 
flight  of  Napoleon  from  Russia  was  celebrated  in  a  "  Pindaric 
Ode "  duly  distributed  into  strophes  and  antistrophes ;  and, 
when  the  allies  entered  Paris,  the  school  put  his  services  into 
requisition  to  petition  for  a  holiday  in  honor  of  the  event. 
He  addressed  his  tutor  in  a  short  poem,  which  begins  with  a 
few  sonorous  and  effective  couplets,  grows  more  and  more 
like  the  parody  on  Fitzgerald  in  "Rejected  Addresses,"  and 
ends  in  a  peroration  of  which  the  intention  is  unquestionably 
mock-heroic : 

Oh,  by  the  glorious  posture  of  affairs, 

By  the  enormous  price  that  Omnium  bears, 

By  princely  Bourbon's  late  recovered  Crown, 

And  by  Miss  Fanny's  safe  return  from  town, 

Oh,  do  not  thou,  and  thou  alone,  refuse 

To  show  thy  pleasure  at  this  glorious  news ! 

Touched  by  the  mention  of  his  sister,  Mr.  Preston  yielded ; 
and  young  Macaulay  never  turned  another  verse  except  at  the 
bidding  of  his  school-master,  until,  on  the  eve  of  his  departure 
for  Cambridge,  he  wrote  between  three  and  four  hundred  lines 
of  a  drama,  entitled  "  Don  Fernando,"  marked  by  force  and 
fertility  of  diction,  but  somewhat  too  artificial  to  be  worthy  of 
publication  under  a  name  such  as  his.  Much  about  the  same 
time  he  communicated  to  Maiden  the  commencement  of  a 


1800-18.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  63 

burlesque  poem  on  the  story  of  Anthony  Babington,  who  by 
the  part  that  he  took  in  the  plots  against  the  life  of  Queen 
Elizabeth,  had  given  the  family  a  connection  with  English 
history  which,  however  questionable,  was  in  Macaulay's  view 
better  than  none. 

Each,  says  the  proverb,  has  his  taste.    'Tis  true. 

Marsh  loves  a  controversy ;  Coates  a  play ; 
Bennet  a  felon ;  Lewis  Way  a  Jew ; 

The  Jew  the  silver  spoons  of  Lewis  Way. 
The  Gypsy  Poetry,  to  own  the  truth, 
Has  been  my  love  through  childhood  and  in  youth. 

It  is  perhaps  as  well  that  the  project  to  all  appearance  stopped 
with  the  first  stanza,  which  in  its  turn  was  probably  written 
for  the  sake  of  a  single  line.  The  young  man  had  a  better 
use  for  his  time  than  to  spend  it  in  producing  frigid  imitations 
of  "  Beppo." 

He  was  not  unpopular  among  his  fellow-pupils,  who  regard- 
ed him  with  pride  and  admiration,  tempered  by  the  compas- 
sion which  his  utter  inability  to  play  at  any  sort  of  game 
would  have  excited  in  every  school,  private  or  public  alike. 
He  troubled  himself  very  little  about  the  opinion  of  those  by 
whom  he  was  surrounded  at  Aspenden.  It  required  the  crowd 
and  the  stir  of  a  university  to  call  forth  the  social  qualities 
which  he  possessed  in  so  large  a  measure.  The  tone  of  his 
correspondence  during  these  years  sufficiently  indicates  that 
he  lived  almost  exclusively  among  books.  His  letters,  which 
had  hitherto  been  very  natural  and  pretty,  began  to  smack  of 
the  library,  and  please  less  than  those  written  in  early  boy- 
hood. His  pen  was  overcharged  with  the  metaphors  and 
phrases  of  other  men,  and  it  was  not  till  maturing  powers  had 
enabled  him  to  master  and  arrange  the  vast  masses  of  litera- 
ture which  filled  his  memory  that  his  native  force  could  dis- 
play itself  freely  through  the  medium  of  a  style  which  was 
all  his  own.  In  1815  he  began  a  formal  literary  correspond- 
ence, after  the  taste  of  the  previous  century,  with  Mr.  Hud- 
son, a  gentleman  in  the  Examiner's  Office  of  the  East  India 
House. 


64:  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  I. 

Aspenden  Hall,  August  22d,  1815. 

DEAR  SIK, — The  Spectator  observes,  I  believe  in  his  first 
paper,  that  we  can  never  read  an  author  with  much  zest  un- 
less we  are  acquainted  with  his  situation.  I  feel  the  same  in 
my  epistolary  correspondence ;  and  supposing  that  in  this  re- 
spect we  may  be  alike,  I  will  just  tell  you  my  condition.  Im- 
agine a  house  in  the  middle  of  pretty  large  grounds,  surround- 
ed by  palings.  These  I  never  pass.  You  may  therefore  sup- 
pose that  I  resemble  the  Hermit  of  Pamell : 

As  yet  by  books  and  swains  the  world  he  knew, 
Nor  knew  if  books  and  swains  report  it  true. 

If  you  substitute  newspapers  and  visitors  for  books  and  swains 
you  may  form  an  idea  of  what  I  know  of  the  present  state  of 
things.  Write  to  me  as  one  who  is  ignorant  of  every  event 
except  political  occurrences.  These  I  learn  regularly ;  but  if 
Lord  Byron  were  to  publish  melodies  or  romances,  or  Scott 
metrical  tales  without  number,  I  should  never  see  them,  or 
perhaps  hear  of  them,  till  Christmas.  Retirement  of  this 
kind,  though  it  precludes  me  from  studying  the  works  of  the 
hour,  is  very  favorable  for  the  employment  of  "  holding  high 
converse  with  the  mighty  dead." 

I  know  not  whether  "peeping  at  the  world  through  the 
loop-holes  of  retreat"  be  the  best  way  of  forming  us  for  en- 
gaging in  its  busy  and  active  scenes.  I  am  sure  it  is  not  a 
way  to  my  taste.  Poets  may  talk  of  the  beauties  of  nature, 
the  enjoyments  of  a  country  life,  and  rural  innocence;  but 
there  is  another  kind  of  life  which,  though  unsung  by  bards, 
is  yet  to  me  infinitely  superior  to  the  dull  uniformity  of  coun- 
try life.  London  is  the  place  for  me.  Its  smoky  atmosphere 
and  its  muddy  river  charm  me  more  than  the  pure  air  of  Hert- 
fordshire, and  the  crystal  currents  of  the  river  Rib.  Nothing 
is  equal  to  the  splendid  varieties  of  London  life,  "  the  fine  flow 
of  London  talk,"  and  the  dazzling  brilliancy  of  London  spec- 
tacles. Such  are  my  sentiments ;  and  if  ever  I  publish  poetry, 
it  shall  not  be  pastoral.  Nature  is  the  last  goddess  to  whom 
my  devoirs  shall  be  paid.  Yours  most  faithfully, 

THOMAS  B.  MACAULAY. 


1800-'18.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  65 

This  votary  of  city  life  was  still  two  months  short  of  com- 
pleting his  fifteenth  year ! 

Aspenden  Hall,  August  23d,  1815. 

MY  DEAK  MAMA, — You  perceive  already  in  so  large  a  sheet 
and  so  small  a  hand  the  promise  of  a  long,  a  very  long  letter; 
longer,  as  I  intend  it,  than  all  the  letters  which  you  send  in 
a  half-year  together.  I  have  again  begun  my  life  of  sterile 
monotony,  unvarying  labor,  the  dull  return  of  dull  exercises 
in  dull  uniformity  of  tediousness.  But  do  not  think  that  I 
complain. 

My  mind  to  me  a  kingdom  is. 

Such  perfect  joy  therein  I  find    . 
As  doth  exceed  all  other  bliss 

That  God  or  nature  hath  assigned. 

Assure  yourself  that  I  am  philosopher  enough  to  be  happy,  I 
meant  to  say  not  particularly  unhappy,  in  solitude ;  but  man 
is  an  animal  made  for  society.  I  was  gifted  with  reason,  not 
to  speculate  in  Aspenden  Park,  but  to  interchange  ideas  with 
some  person  who  can  understand  me.  This  is  what  I  miss  at 
Aspenden.  There  are  several  here  who  possess  both  taste  and 
reading,  who  can  criticise  Lord  Byron  and  Southey  with  much 
tact  and  "  savoir  du  metier."  But  here  it  is  not  the  fashion 
to  think.  Hear  what  I  have  read  since  I  came  here.  Hear 
and  wonder !  I  have  in  the  first  place  read  Boccaccio's  "  De- 
cameron," a  tale  of  an  hundred  cantos.  He  is  a  wonderful 
writer.  Whether  he  tells  in  humorous  or  familiar  strains  the 
follies  of  the  silly  Calandrino,  or  the  witty  pranks  of  Buffal- 
macco  and  Bruno,  or  sings  in  loftier  numbers 

Dames,  knights,  and  arms,  and  love,  the  feats  that  spring 
From  courteous  minds  and  generous  faith, 

or  lashes  with  a  noble  severity  and  fearless  independence  the 
vices  of  the  monks  and  the  priestcraft  of  the  established  re- 
ligion, he  is  always  elegant,  amusing,  and,  what  pleases  and 
surprises  most  in  a  writer  of  so  unpolished  an  age,  strikingly 
delicate  and  chastised.  I  prefer  him  infinitely  to  Chaucer. 
If  you  wish  for  a  good  specimen  of  Boccaccio,  as  soon  as 
you  have  finished  my  letter  (which  will  come,  I  suppose,  by 
VOL.  I.— 5 


66  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OP  [CHAP.  I. 

dinner-time),  send  Jane  up  to  the  library  for  Dryden's 
"  Poems,"  and  you  will  find  among  them  several  translations 
from  Boccaccio,  particularly  one  entitled  "  Theodore  and  Ho- 
noria." 

But  truly  admirable  as  the  bard  of  Florence  is,  I  must  not 
permit  myself  to  give  him  more  than  his  due  share  of  my 
letter.  I  have  likewise  read  "  Gil  Bias,"  with  unbounded  ad- 
miration of  the  abilities  of  Le  Sage.  Maiden  and  I  have 
read  "  Thalaba }?  together,  and  are  proceeding  to  the  "  Curse 
of  Kehama."  Do  not  think,  however,  that  I  am  neglecting 
more  important  studies  than  either  Southey  or  Boccaccio.  I 
have  read  the  greater  part  of  the  "History  of  James  I.," 
and  Mrs.  Montague's  essay  on  Shakspeare,  and  a  great  deal 
of  Gibbon.  I  never  devoured  so  many  books  in  a  fortnight. 
John  Smith,  Bob  Hankinson,  and  I,  went  over  the  "  Hebrew 
Melodies  "  together.  I  certainly  think  far  better  of  them  than 
we  used  to  do  at  Clapham.  Papa  may  laugh,  and  indeed  he 
did  laugh  me  out  of  my  taste  at  Clapham ;  but  I  think  that 
there  is  a  great  deal  of  beauty  in  the  first  melody,  "  She  walks 
in  beauty,"  though  indeed  who  it  is  that  walks  in  beauty  is 
not  very  exactly  defined.  My  next  letter  shall  contain  a  pro- 
duction of  my  muse  entitled  "An  Inscription  for  the  Column 
of  Waterloo,"  which  is  to  be  shown  to  Mr.  Preston  to-morrow. 
What  he  may  think  of  it  I  do  not  know.  But  I  am  like  my 
favorite  Cicero  about  my  own  productions.  It  is  all  one  to 
me  what  others  think  of  them.  I  never  like  them  a  bit  less 
for  being  disliked  by  the  rest  of  mankind.  Mr.  Preston  has 
desired  me  to  bring  him  up  this  evening  two  or  three  subjects 
for  a  declamation.  Those  which  I  have  selected  are  as  fol- 
lows :  1st,  a  speech  in  the  character  of  Lord  Coningsby  im- 
peaching the  Earl_  of  Oxford ;  2d,  an  essay  on  the  utility  of 
standing  armies ;  3d,  an  essay  on  the  policy  of  Great  Britain 
with  regard  to  Continental  possessions.  I  conclude  with  send- 
ing my  love  to  papa,  Selina,  Jane,  John  ("but  he  is  not 
there,"  as  Fingal  pathetically  says,  when  in  enumerating  his 
sons  who  should  accompany  him  to  the  chase  he  inadvertent- 
ly mentions  the  dead  Ryno),  Henry,  Fanny,  Hannah,  Marga- 
ret, and  Charles.  Yalete.  T.  B.  MACAULAY. 


1800-18.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  67 

This  exhaustive  enumeration  of  his  brothers  and  sisters  in- 
vites attention  to  that  home  where  he  reigned  supreme.  Lady 
Trevelyan  thus  describes  their  life  at  Clapham :  "  I  think  that 
my  father's  strictness  was  a  good  counterpoise  to  the  per- 
fect worship  of  your  uncle  by  the  rest  of  the  family.  To  us 
he  was  an  object  of  passionate  love  and  devotion.  To  us  he 
could  do  no  wrong.  His  unruffled  sweetness  of  temper,  his 
unfailing  flow  of  spirits,  his  amusing  talk,  all  made  his  pres- 
ence so  delightful  that  his  wishes  and  his  tastes  were  our  law. 
He  hated  strangers,  and  his  notion  of  perfect  happiness  was  to 
see  us  all  working  round  him  while  he  read  aloud  a  novel,  and 
then  to  walk  all  together  on  the  Common,  or,  if  it  rained,  to 
have  a  frightfully  noisy  game  of  hide-and-seek.  I  have  often 
wondered  how  our  mother  could  ever  have  endured  our  noise 
in  her  little  house.  My  earliest  recollections  speak  of  the  in- 
tense happiness  of  the  holidays,  beginning  with  finding  him  in 
papa's  room  in  the  morning ;  the  awe  at  the  idea  of  his  hav- 
ing reached  home  in  the  dark  after  we  were  in  bed,  and  the 
Saturnalia  which  at  once  set  in ;  no  lessons ;  nothing  but  fun 
and  merriment  for  the  whole  six  weeks.  In  the  year  1816  we 
were  at  Brighton  for  the  summer  holidays,  and  he  read  to  us 
'  Sir  Charles  Grandison.'  It  was  always  a  habit  in  our  fami- 
ly to  read  aloud  every  evening.  Among  the  books  selected, 
I  can  recall  Clarendon,  Burnet,  Shakspeare  (a  great  treat  when 
my  mother  took  the  volume),  Miss  Edgeworth,  Mackenzie's 
<  Lounger'  and  'Mirror,'  and,  as  a  standing  dish,  the  Quar- 
terly and  the  Edinburgh  Review.  Poets,  too,  especially  Scott 
and  Crabbe,  were  constantly  chosen.  Poetry  and  novels,  ex- 
cept during  Tom's  holidays,  were  forbidden  in  the  daytime, 
and  stigmatized  as  '  drinking  drams  in  the  morning.' " 

Morning  or  evening,  Mr.  Macaulay  disapproved  of  novel- 
reading  ;  but,  too  indulgent  to  insist  on  having  his  own  way 
in  any  but  essential  matters,  he  lived  to  see  himself  the  head 
of  a  family  in  which  novels  were  more  read  and  better  remem- 
bered than  in  any  household  of  the  United  Kingdom.  The 
first  warning  of  the  troubles  that  were  in  store  for  him  was  an 
anonymous  letter  addressed  to  him  as  editor  of  the  Christian 
Observer,  defending  works  of  fiction,  and  eulogizing  Fielding 


68  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  i. 

and  Smollett.  This  lie  incautiously  inserted  in  his  periodical, 
and  brought  down  upon  himself  the  most  violent  objurgations 
from  scandalized  contributors,  one  of  whom  informed  the  pub- 
lic that  he  had  committed  the  obnoxious  number  to  the  flames, 
and  should  thenceforward  cease  to  take  in  the  magazine.  The 
editor  replied  with  becoming  spirit,  although  by  that  time  he 
was  aware  that  the  communication,  the  insertion  of  which  in 
an  unguarded  moment  had  betrayed  him  into  a  controversy 
for  which  he  had  so  little  heart,  had  proceeded  from  the  pen 
of  his  son.  Such  was  young  Macaulay's  first  appearance  in 
print,  if  we  except  the  index  to  the  thirteenth  volume  of  the 
Christian  Observer,  which  he  drew  up  during  his  Christmas 
holidays  of  1814.  The  place  where  he  performed  his  earliest 
literary  work  can  be  identified  with  tolerable  certainty.  He 
enjoyed  the  eldest  son's  privilege  of  a  separate  bed-chamber ; 
and  there,  at  the  front  window  on  the  top  story,  farthest  from 
the  Common  and  nearest  to  London,  we  can  fancy  him  sitting, 
apart  from  the  crowded  play-room,  keeping  himself  warm  as 
best  he  might,  and  traveling  steadily  through  the  blameless 
pages,  the  contents  of  which  it  was  his  task  to  classify  for  the 
convenience  of  posterity. 

Lord  Macaulay  used  to  remark  that  Thackeray  introduced 
too  much  of  the  Dissenting  element  into  his  picture  of  Clap- 
ham  in  the  opening  chapters  of  "  The  Newcomes."  The 
leading  people  of  the  place,  with  the  exception  of  Mr.  William 
Smith,  the  Unitarian  member  of  Parliament,  were  one  and  all 
stanch  Churchmen ;  though  they  readily  worked  in  concert 
with  those  religious  communities  which  held  in  the  main  the 
same  views  and  pursued  the  same  objects  as  themselves.  Old 
John  Thornton,  the  earliest  of  the  Evangelical  magnates,  when 
he  went  on  his  annual  tour  to  the  South  Coast  or  the  Scotch 
mountains,  would  take  with  him  some  Independent  or  "Wes- 
leyan  minister  who  was  in  need  of  a  holiday :  and  his  follow- 
ers in  the  next  generation  had  the  most  powerful  motives  for 
maintaining  the  alliance  which  he  had  inaugurated.  They 
could  not  neglect  such  doughty  auxiliaries  in  the  memorable 
war  which  they  waged  against  cruelty,  ignorance,  and  irre- 
ligion,  and  in  their  less  momentous  skirmishes  with  the  vota- 


1800-'18.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  69 

ries  of  the  stage,  the  race-course,  and  the  card-table.  Without 
the  aid  of  non-conformist  sympathy,  and  money,  and  oratory, 
and  organization,  their  operations  would  have  been  doomed 
to  certain  failure.  The  cordial  relations  entertained  with  the 
members  of  other  denominations  by  those  among  whom  his 
youth  was  passed  did  much  to  indoctrinate  Macaulay  with  a 
lively  and  genuine  interest  in  sectarian  theology.  He  possess- 
ed a  minute  acquaintance,  very  rare  among  men  of  letters, 
with  the  origin  and  growth  of  the  various  forms  of  faith  and 
practice  which  have  divided  the  allegiance  of  his  countrymen ; 
not  the  least  important  of  his  qualifications  for  writing  the 
history  of  an  epoch  when  the  national  mind  gave  itself  to  re- 
ligious controversy  even  more  largely  than  had  been  its  wont. 

The  method  of  education  in  vogue  among  the  Clapham 
families  was  simple  without  being  severe.  In  the  spacious 
gardens,  and  the  commodious  houses  of  an  architecture  already 
dating  a  century  back,  which  surrounded  the  Common,  there 
was  plenty  of  freedom  and  good-fellowship,  and  reasonable  en- 
joyment for  young  and  old  alike.  Here,  again,  Thackeray  has 
not  done  justice  to  a  society  that  united  the  mental  culture 
and  the  intellectual  activity  which  are  developed  by  the  neigh- 
borhood of  a  great  capital  with  the  wholesome  quiet  and  the 
homely  ways  of  country  life.  Hobson  and  Brian  Newcome 
are  not  fair  specimens  of  the  effect  of  Clapham  influences 
upon  the  second  generation.  There  can  have  been  little  that 
was  narrow,  and  nothing  vulgar,  in  a  training  which  produced 
Samuel  Wilberforce,  and  Sir  James  Stephen,  and  Charles  and 
Robert  Grant,  and  Lord  Maeaulay.  The  plan  on  which  chil- 
dren were  brought  up  in  the  chosen  home  of  the  Low-church 
party,  during  its  golden  age,  will  bear  comparison  with  sys- 
tems about  which,  in  their  day,  the  world  was  supposed  never 
to  tire  of  hearing,  although  their  ultimate  results  have  been 
small  indeed. 

It  is  easy  to  trace  whence  the  great  bishop  and  the  great 
writer  derived  their  immense  industry.  Working  came  as 
naturally  as  walking  to  sons  who  could  not  remember  a  time 
when  their  fathers  idled.  "  Mr.  Wilberforce  and  Mr.  Babing- 
ton  have  never  appeared  down-stairs  lately,  except  to  take  a 


70  LIFE  AND  LETTEES  OF  [CHAP.  I. 

hasty  dinner,  and  for  half  an  hour  after  we  have  supped.  The 
slave-trade  now  occupies  them  nine  hours  daily.  Mr.  Babing- 
ton  told  me  last  night  that  he  had  fourteen  hundred  folio  pages 
to  read,  to  detect  the  contradictions,  and  to  collect  the  answers 
which  corroborate  Mr.  Wilberforce's  assertions  hi  his  speeches. 
These,  with  more  than  two  thousand  pages  to  be  abridged,  must 
be  done  within  a  fortnight,  and  they  talk  of  sitting  up  one 
night  in  every  week  to  accomplish  it.  The  two  friends  begin 
to  look  very  ill,  but  they  are  in  excellent  spirits,  and  at  this 
moment  I  hear  them  laughing  at  some  absurd  questions  in 
the  examination."  Passages  such  as  this  are  scattered  broad- 
cast through  the  correspondence  of  Wilberf  oree  and  his  friends. 
Fortitude  and  diligence  and  self-control,  and  all  that  makes 
men  good  and  great,  can  not  be  purchased  from  professional 
educators.  Charity  is  not  the  only  quality  which  begins  at 
home.  It  is  throwing  away  money  to  spend  a  thousand  a 
year  on  the  teaching  of  three  boys,  if  they  are  to  return  from 
school  only  to  find  the  older  members  of  their  family  intent 
on  amusing  themselves  at  any  cost  of  time  and  trouble,  or  sac- 
rificing self-respect  in  ignoble  efforts  to  struggle  into  a  social 
grade  above  their  own.  The  child  will  never  place  his  aims 
high  and  pursue  them  steadily  unless  the  parent  has  taught 
him  what  energy  and  elevation  of  purpose  mean  not  less  by 
example  than  by  precept. 

In  that  company  of  indefatigable  workers  none  equaled  the 
labors  of  Zachary  Macaulay.  Even  now,  when  he  has  been  in 
his  grave  for  more  than  the  third  of  a  century,  it  seems  almost 
an  act  of  disloyalty  to  record  the  public  services  of  a  man  who 
thought  that  he  had  done  less  than  nothing  if  his  exertions 
met  with  praise,  or  even  with  recognition.  The  nature  and 
value  of  those  services  may  be  estimated  from  the  terms  in 
which  a  very  competent  judge,  who  knew  how  to  weigh  his 
words,  spoke  of  the  part  which  Mr.  Macaulay  played  in  one 
only  of  his  numerous  enterprises — the  suppression  of  slavery 
and  the  slave-trade.  "  That  God  had  called  him  into  being  to 
wage  war  with  this  gigantic  evil  became  his  immutable  con- 
viction. During  forty  successive  years  he  was  ever  burdened 
with  this  thought.  It  was  the  subject  of  his  visions  by  day 


1800-18.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  71 

and  of  his  dreams  by  night.  To  give  them  reality  he  labored 
as  men  labor  for  the  honors  of  a  profession  or  for  the  subsist- 
ence of  their  children.  In  that  service  he  sacrificed  all  that  a 
man  may  lawfully  sacrifice — health,  fortune,  repose,  favor,  and 
celebrity.  He  died  a  poor  man,  though  wealth  was  within  his 
reach.  He  devoted  himself  to  the  severest  toil,  amidst  allure- 
ments to  luxuriate  in  the  delights  of  domestic  and  social  in- 
tercourse, such  as  few  indeed  have  encountered.  He  silently 
permitted  some  to  usurp  his  hardly  earned  honors,  that  no 
selfish  controversy  might  desecrate  their  common  cause.  He 
made  no  effort  to  obtain  the  praises  of  the  world,  though  he 
had  talents  to  command,  and  a  temper  peculiarly  disposed  to 
enjoy  them.  He  drew  upon  himself  the  poisoned  shafts  of 
calumny,  and,  while  feeling  their  sting  as  generous  spirits 
only  can  feel  it,  never  turned  a  single  step  aside  from  his  path 
to  propitiate  or  to  crush  the  slanderers." 

Zachary  Macaulay  was  no  common  fanatic.  It  is  difficult 
to  understand  when  it  was  that  he  had  time  to  pick  up  his 
knowledge  of  general  literature,  or  how  he  made  room  for  it 
in  a  mind  so  crammed  with  facts  and  statistics  relating  to 
questions  of  the  day,  that  when  Wilberforce  was  at  a  loss  for 
a  piece  of  information  he  used  to  say,  "Let  us  look  it  out 
in  Macaulay."  His  private  papers,  which  are  one  long  reg- 
ister of  unbroken  toil,  do  nothing  to  clear  up  the  problem. 
Highly  cultivated,  however,  he  certainly  was,  an$  his  society 
was  in  request  with  many  who  cared  little  for  the  objects 
which  to  him  were  every  thing.  That  he  should  have  been 
esteemed  and  regarded  by  Lord  Brougham,  Francis  Homer, 
and  Sir  James  Mackintosh,  seems  natural  enough ;  but  there 
is  something  surprising  in  finding  him  in  friendly  and  fre- 
quent intercourse  with  some  of  his  most  distinguished  French 
contemporaries.  Chateaubriand,  Sismondi,  the  Due  de  Broglie, 
Madame  de  Stael,  and  Dumont,  the  interpreter*  of  Bentham, 
corresponded  with  him  freely  in  their  own  language,  which 
he  wrote  to  admiration.  The  gratification  that  his  foreign 
acquaintance  felt  at  the  sight  of  his  letters  would  have  been 
unalloyed  but  for  the  pamphlets  and  blue-books  by  which 
they  were  too  often  accompanied.  It  is  not  difficult  to  imag- 


72  LIFE  AND  LETTEES  OF  [CHAP.  i. 

ine  the  feelings  of  a  Parisian  on  receiving  two  quarto  vol- 
umes, with  the  postage  only  in  part  prepaid,  containing  the 
proceedings  of  a  Committee  on  Apprenticeship  in  the  West 
Indies,  and  including  the  twelve  or  fifteen  thousand  questions 
and  answers  on  which  the  Eeport  was  founded.  It  would  be 
hard  to  meet  with  a  more  perfect  sample  of  the  national  po- 
liteness than  the  passage  in  which  M.  Dumont  acknowledges 
one  of  the  less  formidable  of  these  unwelcome  gifts.  "Mox 
CHEK  AMI, — Je  ne  laisserai  pas  partir  Mr.  Inglis  sans  le  charger 
de  quelques  lignes  pour  vous,  afin  de  vous  remercier  du  Chris- 
tian Observer  que  vous  avez  eu  la  bonte  de  m'envoyer.  Yous 
savez  que  j'ai  a  great  taste  for  it ;  mais  il  f aut  vous  avouer 
une  triste  verite",  c'est  que  je  manque  absolument  de  loisir  pour 
le  lire.  Ne  m'en  envoyez  plus,  car  je  me  sens  peine  d'avoir 
sous  les  yeux  de  si  bonnes  choses  dont  je  n'ai  pas  le  temps  de 
me  nourrir." 

"  In  the  year  1817,"  Lady  Trevelyan  writes,  "  my  parents 
made  a  tour  in  Scotland  with  your  uncle.  Brougham  gave 
them  a  letter  to  Jeffrey,  who  hospitably  entertained  them,  but 
your  uncle  said  that  Jeffrey  was  not  at  all  at  his  ease,  and  was 
apparently  so  terrified  at  my  father's  religious  reputation  that 
he  seemed  afraid  to  utter  a  joke.  Your  uncle  complained 
grievously  that  they  traveled  from  manse  to  manse,  and  al- 
ways came  in  for  very  long  prayers  and  expositions.  I  think, 
with  all  the  love  and  reverence  with  which  your  uncle  regard- 
ed his  father's  memory,  there  mingled  a  shade  of  bitterness 
that  he  had  not  met  quite  the  encouragement  and  appreciation 
from  him  which  he  received  from  others.  But  such  a  son  as 
he  was !  Never  a  disrespectful  word  or  look,  always  anxious 
to  please  and  amuse,  and  at  last  he  was  the  entire  stay  and 
support  of  his  father's  declining  years. 

"  Your  uncle  was  of  opinion  that  the  course  pursued  by  his 
father  toward  him  during  his  youth  was  not  judicious.  But 
here  I  am  inclined  to  disagree  with  him.  There  was  no  want 
of  proof  of  the  estimation  in  which  his  father  held  him,  corre- 
sponding with  him  from  a  very  early  age  as  with  a  man,  con- 
versing with  him  freely,  and  writing  of  him  most  fondly.  But, 
in  the  desire  to  keep  down  any  conceit,  there  was  certainly  in 


1800-'18.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  73 

my  father  a  great  outward  show  of  repression  and  depreci- 
ation. Then  the  faults  of  your  uncle  were  peculiarly  those 
that  my  father  had  no  patience  with.  Himself  precise  in  his 
arrangements,  writing  a  beautiful  hand,  particular  about  neat- 
ness, very  accurate  and  calm,  detesting  strong  expressions,  and 
remarkably  self-controlled — while  his  eager,  impetuous  boy, 
careless  of  his  dress,  always  forgetting  to  wash  his  hands  and 
brush  his  hair,  writing  an  execrable  hand,  and  folding  his  let- 
ters with  a  great  blotch  for  a  seal,  was  a  constant  care  and 
irritation.  Many  letters  to  your  uncle  have  I  read  on  these 
subjects.  Sometimes  a  specimen  of  the  proper  way  of  fold- 
ing a  letter  is  sent  to  him  (those  were  the.  sad  days  before  en- 
velopes were  known),  and  he  is  desired  to  repeat  the  experi- 
ment till  he  succeeds.  General  Macaulay's  fastidious  nature 
led  him  to  take  my  father's  line  regarding  your  uncle,  and 
my  youthful  soul  was  often  vexed  by  the  constant  reprimands 
for  venial  transgressions.  But  the  great  sin  was  the  idle  read- 
ing, which  was  a  thorn  in  my  father's  side  that  never  was  ex- 
tracted. In  truth,  he  really  acknowledged  to  the  full  your 
uncle's  abilities,  and  felt  that  if  he  could  only  add  his  own 
morale,  his  unwearied  industry,  his  power  of  concentrating  his 
energies  on  the  work  in  hand,  his  patient,  painstaking  calm- 
ness, to  the  genius  and  fervor  which  his  son  possessed,  then  a 
being  might  be  formed  who  could  regenerate  the  world.  Oft- 
en in  later  years  I  have  heard  my  father,  after  expressing  an 
earnest  desire  for  some  object,  exclaim, '  If  I  had  only  Tom's 
power  of  speech !'  But  he  should  have  remembered  that  all 
gifts  are  not  given  to  one,  and  that  perhaps  such  a  union  as  he 
coveted  is  even  impossible.  Parents  must  be  content  to  see 
their  children  walk  hi  their  own  path,  too  happy  if  through 
any  road  they  attain  the  same  end,  the  living  for  the  glory  of 
God  and  the  good  of  man." 

From  a  marvelously  early  date  in  Macaulay's  life,  public  af- 
fairs divided  his  thoughts  with  literature,  and,  as  he  grew  to 
manhood,  began  more  and  more  to  divide  his  aspirations.  His 
father's  house  was  much  used  as  a  centre  of  consultation  by 
members  of  Parliament  who  lived  in  the  suburbs  on  the  Sur- 
rey side  of  London,  and  the  boy  could  hardly  have  heard  more 


74  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  i. 

incessant,  and  assuredly  not  more  edifying  political  talk  if  he 
had  been  brought  up  in  Downing  Street.  The  future  advo- 
cate and  interpreter  of  Whig  principles  was  not  reared  in  the 
Whig  faith.  Attached  friends  of  Pitt,  who  in  personal  con- 
duct and  habits  of  life  certainly  came  nearer  to  their  standard 
than  his  great  rival,  and  warmly  in  favor  of  a  war  which  to 
their  imagination  never  entirely  lost  its  early  character  of  an 
internecine  contest  with  atheism,  the  Evangelicals  in  the  House 
of  Commons  for  the  most  part  acted  with  the  Tories.  But 
it  may  be  doubted  whether  in  the  long  run  their  party  would 
not  have  been  better  without  them.  By  the  zeal,*  the  munif- 
icence, the  laborious  activity  with  which  they  pursued  their 
religious  and  semi-religious  enterprises,  they  did  more  to  teach 
the  world  how  to  get  rid  of  existing  institutions  than  by  their 
votes  and  speeches  at  Westminster  they  contributed  to  pre- 
serve them.  With  their  May  meetings,  and  African  institu- 

*  Macaulay,  writing  to  one  of  his  sisters  in  1844,  says :  "  I  think  Stephen's 
article  on  the  Clapham  sect  the  best  thiug  he  ever  did.  I  do  not  think  with 
you  that  the  Claphamites  were  men  too  obscure  for  such  delineation.  The 
truth  is  that  from  that  little  knot  of  men  emanated  all  the  Bible  societies 
and  almost  all  the  missionary  societies  in  the  world.  The  whole  organiza- 
tion of  the  Evangelical  party  was  their  work.  The  share  which  they  had 
in  providing  means  for  the  education  of  the  people  was  great.  They  were 
really  the  destroyers  of  the  slave-trade  and  of  slavery.  Many  of  those  whom 
Stephen  describes  were  public  men  of  the  greatest  weight.  Lord  Teign- 
mouth  governed  India  at  Calcutta.  Grant  governed  India  in  Leadenhall 
Street.  Stephen's  father  was  Perceval's  right-hand  man  in  the  House  of 
Commons.  It  is  needless  to  speak  of  Wilberforce.  As  to  Simeon,  if  you 
knew  what  his  authority  and  influence  were,  and  how  they  extended  from 
Cambridge  to  the  most  remote  corners  of  England,  you  would  allow  that 
his  real  sway  in  the  Church  was  far  greater  than  that  of  any  primate. 
Thornton,  to  my  surprise,  thinks  the  passage  about  my  father  unfriendly. 
I  defended  Stephen.  The  truth  is  that  he  asked  my  permission  to  draw  a 
portrait  of  my  father  for  the  Edinburgh  Review.  I  told  him  that  I  had  only 
to  beg  that  he  would  not  give  it  the  air  of  a  puff:  a  thing  which,  for  my- 
self and  for  my  friends,  I  dread  far  more  than  any  attack.  My  influence 
over  the  Berime  is  so  well  known  that  a  mere  eulogy  of  my  father  appear- 
ing in  that  work  would  only  call  forth  derision.  I  therefore  am  really 
glad  that  Stephen  has  introduced  into  his  sketch  some  little  characteristic 
traits  which,  in  themselves,  were  not  beauties." 


1800-'18.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  75 

tions,  and  antislavery  reporters,  and  their  subscriptions  "of  tens 
of  thousands  of  pounds,  and  their  petitions  bristling  with  hun- 
dreds of  thousands  of  signatures,  and  all  the  machinery  for  in- 
forming opinion  and  bringing  it  to  bear  on  ministers  and  leg- 
islators which  they  did  so  much  to  perfect  and  even  to  invent, 
they  can  be  regarded  as  nothing  short  of  the  pioneers  and 
fuglemen  of  that  system  of  popular  agitation  which  forms  a 
leading  feature  in  our  internal  history  during  the  past  half- 
century.  At  an  epoch  when  the  Cabinet  which  they  support- 
ed was  so  averse  to  manifestations  of  political  sentiment  that 
a  Reformer  who  spoke  his  mind  in  England  was  seldom  long 
out  of  prison,  and  in  Scotland  ran  a  very  serious  risk  of  trans- 
portation, Toryism  sat  oddly  enough  on  men  who  spent  their 
days  in  the  committee-room  and  their  evenings  on  the  plat 
form,  and  each  of  whom  belonged  to  more  associations  com 
bined  for  the  purpose  of  influencing  Parliament  than  he  could 
count  on  the  fingers  of  both  his  hands. 

There  was  something  incongruous  in  their  position,  and  as 
time  went  on  they  began  to  perceive  the  incongruity.  They 
gradually  learned  that  measures  dear  to  philanthropy  might 
be  expected  to  result  from  the  advent  to  power  of  their  op- 
ponents, while  their  own  chief  too  often  failed  them  at  a  pinch 
out  of  what  appeared  to  them  an  excessive  and  humiliating 
deference  to  interests  powerfully  represented  on  the  benches 
behind  him.  Their  eyes  were  first  opened  by  Pitt's  change 
of  attitude  with  regard  to  the  object  that  was  next  all  their 
hearts.  There  is  something  almost  pathetic  in  the  contrast 
between  two  entries  in  Wilberforce's  diary,  of  which  the  first 
has  become  classical,  but  the  second  is  not  so  generally  known. 
In  1787,  ref  erring  to  the  movement  against  the  slave-trade,  he 
says :  "  Pitt  recommended  me  to  undertake  its  conduct,  as  a 
subject  suited  to  my  character  and  talents.  At  length,  I  well 
remember,  after  a  conversation  in  the  open  air  at  the  root  of 
an  old  tree  at  Holwood,  just  above  the  vale  of  Keston,  I  re- 
solved to  give  notice  on  a  fit  occasion  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons of  my  intention  to  bring  the  subject  forward."  Twelve 
years  later,  Mr.  Henry  Thornton  had  brought  in  a  bill  for  con- 
fining the-trade  within  certain  limits  upon  the  coast  of  Africa. 


76  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.I. 

"  Upon  the  second  reading  of  this  bill,"  writes  Wilberf  orce, 
"  Pitt  coolly  put  off  the  debate  when  I  had  manifested  a  de- 
sign of  answering  P 's  speech,  and  so  left  misrepresenta- 
tions without  a  word.  William  Smith's  anger,  Henry  Thorn- 
ton's coolness,  made  a  deep  impression  on  me,  but  conquered, 
I  hope,  in  a  Christian  way." 

Besides  instructing  their  successors  in  the  art  of  carrying 
on  a  popular  movement,  Wilberf orce  and  his  followers  had  a 
lesson  to  teach,  the  value  of  which  not  so  many,  perhaps,  will 
be  disposed  to  question.  In  public  life,  as  in  private,  they 
habitually  had  the  fear  of  God  before  their  eyes.  A  mere 
handful  as  to  number,  and  in  average  talent  very  much  on  a 
level  with  the  mass  of  their  colleagues;  counting  in  their 
ranks  no  orator,  or  minister,  or  borough-monger ;  they  com- 
manded the  ear  of  the  House,  and  exerted  on  its  proceedings 
an  influence,  the  secret  of  which  those  who  have  studied  the 
Parliamentary  history  of  the  period  find  it  only  too  easy  to 
understand.  To  refrain  from  gambling  and  ball-giving,  to  go 
much  to  church  and  never  to  the  theatre,  was  not  more  at  va- 
riance with  the  social  customs  of  the  day  than  it  was  the  ex- 
ception in  the  political  world  to  meet  with  men  who  looked 
to  the  facts  of  the  case,  and  not  to  the  wishes  of  the  minister, 
and  who,  before  going  into  the  lobby,  required  to  be  obliged 
with  a  reason  instead  of  with  a  job.  Confidence  and  respect, 
and  (what  in  the  House  of  Commons  is  their  unvarying  ac- 
companiment), power,  were  gradually,  and  to  a  great  extent 
involuntarily,  accorded  to  this  group  of  members.  They  were 
not  addicted  to  crotchets,  nor  to  the  obtrusive  and  unseason- 
able assertion  of  conscientious  scruples.  The  occasions  on 
which  they  made  proof  of  independence  and  impartiality  were 
such  as  justified  and  dignified  their  temporary  renunciation  of 
party  ties.  They  interfered  with  decisive  effect  in  the  de- 
bates on  the  great  scandals  of  Lord  Melville  and  the  Duke  of 
York,  and  in  more  than  one  financial  or  commercial  contro- 
versy that  deeply  concerned  the  national  interests,  of  which 
the  question  of  the  retaining  the  Orders  in  Council  was  a  con- 
spicuous instance.  A  boy  who,  like  young  Macaulay,  was  ad- 
mitted to  the  intimacy  of  politicians  such  as  these,  and  was  ac- 


180Q-'18.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  77 

customed  to  hear  matters  of  state  discussed  exclusively  from  a 
public  point  of  view  without  any  after-thought  of  ambition, 
or  jealousy,  or  self-seeking,  could  hardly  fail  to  grow  up  a  pa- 
triotic and  disinterested  man.  "  What  is  far  better  and  more 
important  than  all  is  this,  that  I  believe  Macaulay  to  be  incor- 
ruptible. You  might  lay  ribbons,  stars,  garters,  wealth,  titles 
before  him  in  vain.  He  has  an  honest,  genuine  love  of  his 
country,  and  the  world  would  not  bribe  him  to  neglect  her  in- 
terests." Thus  said  Sydney  Smith,  who  of  all  his  real  friends 
was  the  least  inclined  to  overpraise  him. 

The  memory  of  Thornton  and  Babington,  and  the  other 
worthies  of  their  day  and  set,  is  growing  dim,  and  their  names 
already  mean  little  in  our  ears.  Part  of  their  work  was  so 
thoroughly  done  that  the  world,  as  its  wont  is,  has  long  ago 
taken  the  credit  of  that  work  to  itself.  Others  of  their  under- 
takings, in  weaker  hands  than  theirs,  seem  out  of  date  among 
the  ideas  and  beliefs  which  now  are  prevalent.  At  Clapham, 
as  elsewhere,  the  old  •  order  is  changing,  and  not  always  in  a 
direction  which  to  them  would  be  acceptable  or  even  tolera- 
ble. What  was  once  the  home  of  Zachary  Macaulay  stands 
almost  within  the  swing  of  the  bells  of  a  stately  and  elegant 
Roman  Catholic  chapel;  and  the  pleasant  mansion  of  Lord 
Teignmouth,  the  cradle  of  the  Bible  Society,  is  now  turned 
into  a  convent  of  monks.  But,  in  one  shape  or  another,  hon- 
est performance  always  lives,  and  the  gains  that  accrued  from 
the  labors  of  these  men  are  still  on  the  right  side  of  the  na- 
tional ledger.  Among  the  most  permanent  of  those  gains  is 
their  undoubted  share  in  the  improvement  of  our  political  in- 
tegrity by  direct,  and  still  more  by  indirect,-  example.  It 
would  be  ungrateful  to  forget  in  how  large  a  measure  it  is 
due  to  them  that  one  whose  judgments  upon  the.  statesmen  of 
many  ages  and  countries  have  been  delivered  to  an  audience 
vast  beyond  all  precedent  should  have  framed  his  decisions  in 
accordance  with  the  dictates  of  honor  and  humanity,  of  ardent 
public  spirit  and  lofty  public  virtue. 


78  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  n. 


CHAPTEK  H. 

1818-1824. 

Macaulay  goes  to  the  University. — His  Love  for  Trinity  College. — His 
Contemporaries  at  Cambridge. — Charles  Austin. — The  Union  Debating 
Society. — University  Studies,  Successes,  and  Failures. — The  Mathemat- 
ical Tripos. — The  Trinity  Fellowship. — William  the  Third. — Letters. — 
Prize  Poems. — Peterloo. — Novel-reading. — The  Queen's  Trial. — Macau- 
lay's  Feeling  toward  his  Mother. — A  Reading-party. — Hoaxing  an  Edit- 
or.— Macaulay  takes  Pupils. 

IN  October,  1818,  Macaulay  went  into  residence  at  Trinity 
College,  Cambridge.  Mr.  Henry  Sykes  Thornton,  the  eldest 
son  of  the  member  for  Southwark,  was  his  companion  through- 
out his  university  career.  The  young  men  lived  in  the  same 
lodgings,  and  began  by  reading  with  the  same  tutor :  a  plan 
which  promised  well,  because,  in  addition  to  what  was  his  own 
by  right,  each  had  the  benefit  of  the  period  of  instruction  paid 
for  by  the  other.  But  two  hours  were  much  the  same  as 
one  to  Macaulay,  in  whose  eyes  algebra  and  geometry  were 
so  much  additional  material  for  lively  and  interminable  argu- 
ment. Thornton  reluctantly  broke  through  the  arrangement, 
and  eventually  stood  highest  among  the  Trinity  wranglers  of 
his  year :  an  elevation  which  he  could  hardly  have  attained  if 
he  had  pursued  his  studies  in  company  with  one  who  regard- 
ed every  successive  mathematical  proposition  as  an  open  ques- 
tion. A  Parliamentary  election  took  place  while  the  two 
friends  were  still  quartered  in  Jesus  Lane.  A  tumult  in  the 
neighboring  street  announced  that  the  citizens  were  expressing 
their  sentiments  by  the  only  channel  which  was  open  to  them 
before  the  days  of  Reform :  and  Macaulay,  to  whom  any  ex- 
citement of  a  political  nature  was  absolutely  irresistible,  drag- 
ged Thornton  to  the  scene  of  action,  and  found  the  mob  break- 
ing the  windows  of  the  Hoop  Hotel,  the  head-quarters  of  the 


1818-'24.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  79 

successful  candidates.  His  ardor  was  cooled  by  receiving  a 
dead  cat  full  in  the  face.  The  man  who  was  responsible  for 
the  animal  came  up  and  apologized  very  civilly,  assuring  him 
that  there  was  no  town-and-gown  feeling  in  the  matter,  and 
that  the  cat  had  been  meant  for  Mr.  Adeane.  "  I  wish,"  re- 
plied Macaulay, "  that  you  had  meant  it  for  me,  and  hit  Mr. 
Adeane." 

After  no  long  while  he  removed  within  the  walls  of  Trini- 
ty, and  resided  first  in  the  centre  rooms  of  Bishop's  Hostel, 
and  subsequently  in  the  Old  Court  between  the  Gate  and 
the  Chapel.  The  door  which  once  bore  his  name  is  on  the 
ground-floor,  to  the  left  hand  as  you  face  the  staircase.  In 
more  recent  years  under-graduates  who  are  accustomed  to  be 
out  after  lawful  hours  have  claimed  a  right  of  way  through 
the  window  which  looks  toward  the  town ;  to  the  great  an- 
noyance of  any  occupant  who  is  too  good-natured  to  refuse 
the  accommodation  to  others,  and  too  steady  to  need  it  him- 
self. This  power  of  surreptitious  entry  had  not  been  dis- 
covered in  Macaulay' s  days ;  and  indeed  he  would  have  cared 
very  little  for  the  privilege  o£  spending  his  time  outside  walls 
which  contained  within  them  as  many  books  as  even  he  could 
read,  and  more  friends  than  even  he  could  talk  to.  Wanting 
nothing  beyond  what  his  college  had  to  give,  he  reveled  in  the 
possession  of  leisure  and  liberty,  in  the  almost  complete  com- 
mand of  his  own  time,  in  the  power  of  passing  at  choice  from 
the  most  perfect  solitude  to  the  most  agreeable  company.  He 
keenly  appreciated  a  society  which  cherishes  all  that  is  gen- 
uine, and  is  only  too  outspoken  in  its  abhorrence  of  pretension 
and  display :  a  society  in  which  a  man  lives  with  those  whom 
he  likes  and  with  those  only ;.  choosing  his  comrades  for  their 
own  sake,  and  so  indifferent  to  the  external  distinctions  of 
wealth  and  position  that  no  one  who  has  entered  fully  into 
the  spirit  of  college  life  can  ever  unlearn  its  priceless  lesson 
of  manliness  and  simplicity. 

Of  all  his  places  of  sojourn  during  his  joyous  and  shining 
pilgrimage  through  the  world,  Trinity,  and  Trinity  alone,  had 
any  share  with  his  home  in  Macaulay's  affection  and  loyalty. 
To  the  last  he  regarded  it  as  an  ancient  Greek  or  a  mediaeval 


80  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  n. 

Italian  felt  toward  his  native  city.  As  long  as  he  had  place 
and  standing  there,  he  never  left  it  willingly  or  returned  to  it 
without  delight.  The  only  step  in  his  course  about  the  wis- 
dom of  which  he  sometimes  expressed  misgiving  was  his  pref- 
erence of  a  London  to  a  Cambridge  life.  The  only  digni- 
ty that  in  his  later  days  he  was  known  to  covet  was  an  hon- 
orary fellowship  which  would  have  allowed  him  again  to  look 
through  his  window  upon  the  college  grass-plots,  and  to  sleep 
within  sound  of  the  splashing  of  the  fountain ;  again  to  break- 
fast on  commons,  and  dine  beneath  the  portraits  of  Newton 
and  Bacon  on  the  dais  of  the  hall ;  again  to  ramble  by  moon- 
light round  Neville's  cloister  discoursing  the  picturesque  but 
somewhat  exoteric  philosophy  which  it  pleased  him  to  call 
by  the  name  of  metaphysics.  From  the  door  of  his  rooms, 
along  the  wall  of  the  chapel,  there  runs  a  flagged  pathway 
which  affords  an  acceptable  relief  from  the  rugged  pebbles 
that  surround  it.  Here,  as  a  bachelor  of  arts,  he  would  walk, 
book  in  hand,  morning  after  morning,  throughout  the  long  va- 
cation, reading  with  the  same  eagerness  and  the  same  rapidity 
whether  the  volume  was  the  most  abstruse  of  treatises,  the  lofti- 
est of  poems,  or  the  flimsiest  of  novels.  That  was  the  spot  where 
in  his  failing  years  he  specially  loved  to  renew  the  feelings  of 
the  past,  and  some  there  are  who  can  never  revisit  it  without 
the  fancy  that  there,  if  anywhere,  his  dear  shade  must  linger. 
He  was  fortunate  in  his  contemporaries.  Among  -his  in- 
timate friends  were  the  two  Coleridges  —  Derwent,  the  son, 
and  Henry  Nelson,  who  was  destined  to  be  the  son-in-law  of 
the  poet ;  and  how  exceptional  that  destiny  was,  the  readers 
of  Sara  Coleridge's  letters  are  now  aware.  Hyde  Villiers, 
whom  an  untimely  death  alone  prevented  from  taking  an 
equal  place  in  a  trio  of  distinguished  brothers,  was  of  his  year, 
though  not  of  his  college.*  In  the  year  below  were  the  young 
men  who  now  bear  the  titles  of  Lord  Grey,  Lord  Belper,  and 
Lord  Romilly  ;f  and  after  the  same  interval  came  Moultrie, 

*  Lord  Clarendon  and  his  brothers  were  all  Johnians. 

t  This  paragraph  was  written  in  the  summer  of  1874.  Three  of  Macau- 
lay's  old  college  friends,  Lord  Romilly,  Moultrie,  and  Charles  Austin,  died 
in  the  hard  winter  that  followed,  within  a  few  days  of  each  other. 


1818-'24.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  81 

who  in  his  "  Dream  of  Life,"  with  a  fidelity  which  he  himself 
pronounced  to  have  been  obtained  at  some  sacrifice  of  grace, 
has  told  us  how  the  heroes  of  his  time  looked  and  lived,  and 
Charles  Villiers,  who  still  delights  our  generation  by  show- 
ing us  how  they  talked.  Then  there  was  Praed,  fresh  from 
editing  the  Etonicm,  as  a  product  of  collective  boyish  effort 
unique  in  its  literary  excellence  and  variety ;  and  Sidney 
Walker,  Praed's  gifted  school  -  fellow,  whose  promise  was 
blighted  by  premature  decay  of  powers ;  and  Charles  Austin, 
whose  fame  would  now  be  more  in  proportion  to  his  extraor- 
dinary abilities  had  not  his  unparalleled  success  as  an  advocate 
tempted  him  before  his  day  to  retire  from  the  toils  of  a  career 
of  whose  rewards  he  already  had  enough. 

With  his  vigor  and  fervor,  his  depth  of  knowledge  and 
breadth  of  humor,  his  close  reasoning  illustrated  by  an  expan- 
sive imagination,  set  off,  as  these  gifts  were,  by  the  advantage, 
at  that  period  of  life  so  irresistible,  of  some  experience  of  the 
world  at  home  and  abroad,  Austin  was  indeed  a  king  among 
his  fellows. 

Grave,  sedate, 

And  (if  the  looks  may  indicate  the  age), 
Our  senior  some  few  years :  no  keener  wit, 
No  intellect  more  subtle,  none  more  bold, 
Was  found  in  all  our  host. 

So  writes  Moultrie,  and  the  testimony  of  his  verse  is  borne 
out  by  John  Stuart  Mill's  prose.  "  The  impression  he  gave 
was  that  of  boundless  strength,  together  with  talents  which, 
combined  with  such  apparent  force  of  will  and  character, 
seemed  capable  of  dominating  the  world."  He  certainly  was 
the  only  man  who  ever  succeeded  in  dominating  Macaulay. 
Brimming  over  with  ideas  that  were  soon  to  be  known  by  the 
name  of  Utilitarian,  a  panegyrist  of  American  institutions,  and 
an  unsparing  assailant  of  ecclesiastical  endowments  and  he- 
reditary privileges,  he  effectually  cured  the  young  under-grad- 
uate  of  his  Tory  opinions,  which  were  never  more  than  skin- 
deep,  and  brought  him  nearer  to  Radicalism  than  he  ever 
was  before  or  since.  The  report  of  this  conversion,  of  which 
the  most  was  made  by  ill-natured  tale-bearers  who  met  with 
YOL.  I.— 6 


82  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  n. 

more  encouragement  than  they  deserved,  created  some  con- 
sternation in  the  family  circle  :  while  the  reading  set  at  Cam- 
bridge was  duly  scandalized  at  the  influence  which  one  whose 
classical  attainments  were  rather  discursive  than  exact  had 
gained  over  a  Craven  scholar.  To  this  hour  men  may  be 
found  in  remote  parsonages  who  mildly  resent  the  fascination 
which  Austin  of  Jesus  exercised  over  Macaulay  of  Trinity. 

The  day  and  the  night  together  were  too  short  for  one  who 
was  entering  on  the  journey  of  life  amidst  such  a  band  of 
travelers.  So  long  as  a  door  was  open  or  a  light  burning  in 
any  of  the  courts,  Macaulay  was  always  in  the  mood  for  con- 
versation and  companionship.  Unfailing  in  his  attendance  at 
lecture  and  chapel,  blameless  with  regard  to  college  laws  and 
college  discipline,  it  was  well  for  his  virtue  that  no  curfew, 
was  in  force  within  the  precincts  of  Trinity.  He  never  tired 
of  recalling  the  days  when  he  supped  at  midnight  on  milk- 
punch  and  roast  turkey,  drank  tea  in  floods  at  an  hour  when 
older  men  are  intent  upon  any  thing  rather  than  on  the  means 
of  keeping  themselves  awake,  and  made  little  of  sitting  over 
the  fire  till  the  bell  rang  for  morning  chapel  in  order  to  see  a 
friend  off  by  the  early  coach.  In  the  license  of  the  summer 
vacation,  after  some  prolonged  and  festive  gathering,  the 
whole  party  would  pour  out  into  the  moonlight  and  ramble 
for  mile  after  mile  through  the  country  till  the  noise  of  their 
wide-flowing  talk  mingled  with  the  twittering  of  the  birds  in 
the  hedges  which  bordered  the  Coton  pathway  or  the  Mading- 
ley  road.  On  such  occasions  it  must  have  been  well  worth 
the  loss  of  sleep  to  hear  Macaulay  plying  Austin  with  sarcasms 
upon  the  doctrine  of  the  Greatest  Happiness,  which  then  had 
still  some  gloss  of  novelty ;  putting  into  an  ever-fresh  shape 
the  time-honored  jokes  against  the  Johnians  for  the  benefit 
of  the  Yillierses ;  and  urging  an  interminable  debate  on 
Wordsworth's  merits  as  a  poet,  in  which  the  Coleridges,  as  in 
duty  bound,  were  ever  ready  to  engage.  In  this  particular 
field  he  acquired  a  skill  of  fence  which  rendered  him  the  most 
redoubtable  of  antagonists.  Many  years  afterward,  at  the 
time  when  the  "  Prelude "  was  fresh  from  the  press,  he  was 
maintaining  against  the  opinion  of  a  large  and  mixed  society 


1818-'24.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  83 

that  the  poem  was  unreadable.  At  last,  overborne  by  the 
united  indignation  of  so  many  of  Wordsworth's  admirers,  he 
agreed  that  the  question  should  be  referred  to  the  test  of  per- 
sonal experience;  and  on  inquiry  it  was  discovered  that  the 
only  individual  present  who  had  got  through  the  "  Prelude " 
was  Macaulay  himself. 

It  is  not  only  that  the  witnesses  of  these  scenes  unanimously 
declare  that  they  have  never  since  heard  such  conversation  in 
the  most  renowned  of  social  circles.  The  partiality  of  a  gen- 
erous young  man  for  trusted  and  admired  companions  may 
well  color  his  judgment  over  the  space  of  even  half  a  century. 
But  the  estimate  of  university  contemporaries  was  abundant- 
ly confirmed  by  the  outer  world.  While  on  a  visit  to  Lord 
Lansdowne  at  Bowood,  Austin  and  Macaulay  happened  to  get 
upon  college  topics  one  morning  at  breakfast.  When  the 
meal  was  finished  they  drew  their  chairs  to  either  end  of  the 
chimney-piece,  and  talked  at  each  other  across  the  hearth-rug 
as  if  they  were  in  a  first-floor  room  in  the  Old  Court  of  Trin- 
ity. The  whole  company,  ladies,  artists,  politicians,  and  diners- 
out,  formed  a  silent  circle  round  the  two  Cantabs,  and,  with  a 
short  break  for  lunch,  never  stirred  till  the  bell  warned  them 
that  it  was  time  to  dress  for  dinner. 

It  has  all  irrevocably  perished.  With  life  before  them,  and 
each  intent  on  his  own  future,  none  among  that  troop  of 
friends  had  the  mind  to  play  Boswell  to  the  others.  One 
repartee  survives,  thrown  off  in  the  heat  of  discussion,  but 
exquisitely  perfect  in  all  its  parts.  Acknowledged  without 
dissent  to  be  the  best-applied  quotation  that  ever  was  made 
within  five  miles  of  the  Fitzwilliam  Museum,  it  is  unfortunate- 
ly too  strictly  classical  for  reproduction  in  these  pages. 

We  are  more  easily  consoled  for  the  loss  of  the  eloquence 
which  then  flowed  so  full  and  free  in  the  debates  of  the  Cam- 
bridge Union.  In  1820  that  society  was  emerging  from  a 
period  of  tribulation  and  repression.  The  authorities  of  the 
university,  who,  as  old  constituents  of  Mr.  Pitt  and  warm  sup- 
porters of  Lord  Liverpool,  had  been  never  very  much  inclined 
to  countenance  the  practice  of  political  discussion  among  the 
under-graduates,  set  their  faces  against  it  more  than  ever  at 


84  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  n. 

an  epoch  when  the  temper  of  the  time  increased  the  tenden- 
cy of  young  men  to  run  into  extremes  of  partisanship.  At 
length  a  compromise  was  extorted  from  the  reluctant  hands 
of  the  vice-chancellor,  and  the  club  was  allowed  to  take  into 
consideration  public  affairs  of  a  date  anterior  to  the  century. 
It  required  less  ingenuity  than  the  leaders  of  the  Union  had 
at  their  command  to  hit  upon  a  method  of  dealing  with  the 
present  under  the  guise  of  the  past.  Motions  were  framed 
that  reflected  upon  the  existing  Government  under  cover  of  a 
censure  on  the  cabinets  of  the  previous  generation.  Resolu- 
tions which  called  upon  the  meeting  to  declare  that  the  boon 
of  Catholic  Emancipation  should  have  been  granted  in  the 
year  1795,  or  that  our  commercial  policy  previous  to  1800 
should  have  been  founded  on  the  basis  of  free  trade,  were 
clearly  susceptible  of  great  latitude  of  treatment.  And,  again, 
in  its  character  of  a  reading-club,  the  society,  when  assembled 
for  the  conduct  of  private  business,  was  at  liberty  to  review 
the  political  creed  of  the  journals  of  the  day  in  order  to  de- 
cide which  of  them  it  should  take  in  and  which  it  should  dis- 
continue. The  Examiner  newspaper  was  the  flag  of  many  a 
hard-fought  battle ;  the  Morning  Chronicle  was  voted  in  and 
out  of  the  rooms  half  a  dozen  times  within  a  single  twelve- 
month ;  while  a  series  of  impassioned  speeches  on  the  burning 
question  of  interference  in  behalf  of  Greek  independence  were 
occasioned  by  a  proposition  of  Maiden's,  "that  17  'EXXjjvi'io} 
<TaX7ny£  do  lie  upon  the  table." 

At  the  close  of  the  debates,  which  were  held  in  a  large  room 
at  the  back  of  The  Red  Lion  in  Petty  Cury,  the  most  promi- 
nent members  met  for  supper  in  the  hotel,  or  at  Moultrie's 
lodgings,  which  were  situated  close  at  hand.  They  acted  as  a 
self-appointed  standing  committee,  which  watched  over  the 
general  interests  of  the  Union,  and  selected  candidates,  whom 
they  put  in  nomination  for  its  offices.  The  society  did  not 
boast  a  Hansard :  an  omission  which,  as  time  went  on,  some 
among  its  orators  had  no  reason  to  regret.  Faint  recollections 
still  survive  of  a  discussion  upon  the  august  topic  of  the  char- 
acter of  George  the  Third.  "  To  whom  do  we  owe  it,"  asked 
Macaulay,  "  that,  while  Europe  was  convulsed  with  anarchy 


1818-'24.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  85 

and  desolated  with  war,  England  alone  remained  tranquil, 
prosperous,  and  secure  ?  To  whom  but  the  Good  Old  King  ? 
Why  was  it  that,  when  neighboring  capitals  were  perishing 
in  the  flames,  our  own  was  illuminated  only  for  triumphs?* 
You  may  find  the  cause  in  the  same  three  words :  the  Good 
Old  King."  Praed,  on  the  other  hand,  would  allow  his  late 
monarch  neither  public  merits  nor  private  virtues.  "A  good 
man  !  If  he  had  been  a  plain  country  gentleman  with  no 
wider  opportunities  for  mischief,  he  would  at  least  have  bull- 
ied his  footman  and  cheated  his  steward." 

Macaulay's  intense  enjoyment  of  all  that  was  stirring  and 
vivid  around  him  undoubtedly  hindered  him  in  the  race  for 
university  honors ;  though  his  success  was  sufficient  to  inspirit 
him  at  the  time,  and  to  give  him  abiding  pleasure  in  the  retro- 
spect. He  twice  gained  the  chancellor's  medal  for  English 
verse,  with  poems  admirably  planned,  and  containing  passages 
of  real  beauty,  but  which  may  not  be  republished  in  the  teeth 
of  the  panegyric  which,  within  ten  years  after  they  were  writ- 
ten, he  pronounced  upon  Sir  Roger  Newdigate.  Sir  Roger 
had  laid  down  the  rule  that  no  exercise  sent  in  for  the  prize 
which  he  established  at  Oxford  was  to  exceed  fifty  lines. 
This  law,  says  Macaulay,  seems  to  have  more  foundation  in 
reason  than  is  generally  the  case  with  a  literary  canon,  "  for 
the  world,  we  believe,  is  pretty  well  agreed  in  thinking  that 
the  shorter  a  prize  poem  is,  the  better." 

Trinity  men  find  it  difficult  to  understand  how  it  was  that 
he  missed  getting  one  of  the  three  silver  goblets  given  for  the 
best  English  declamations  of  the  year.  If  there  is  one  thing 
which  all  Macaulay's  friends  and  all  his  enemies  admit  it  is 
that  he  could  declaim  English.  His  own  version  of  the  affair 
was  that  the  senior  dean,  a  relative  of  the  victorious  candidate, 
sent  for  him,  and  said,  "  Mr.  Macaulay,  as  you  have  not  got 

*  This  debate  evidently  made  some  noise  in  the  university  world.  There 
is  an  allusion  to  it  in  a  squib  of  Praed's,  very  finished  and  elegant,  and  be- 
yond all  doubt  contemporary.  The  passage  relating  to  Macaulay  begins 
with  the  lines — 

Then  the  favorite  comes,  with  his  trumpets  and  drums, 
And  his  arms  and  his  metaphors  crossed. 


86  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  n. 

the  first  cup,  I  do  not  suppose  that  you  will  care  for  either  of 
the  others."  He  was  consoled,  however,  by  the  prize  for 
Latin  declamation,  and  in  1821  he  established  his  classical  re- 
pute by  winning  a  Craven  university  scholarship  in  company 
with  his  friend  Maiden,  and  Mr.  George  Long,  who  was  subse- 
quently Professor  of  Latin  at  University  College,  London. 

Macaulay  detested  the  labor  of  manufacturing  Greek  and 
Latin  verse  in  cold  blood  as  an  exercise,  and  his  hexameters 
were  never  up  to  the  best  Etonian  mark,  nor  his  iambics  to 
the  highest  standard  of  Shrewsbury.  He  defined  a  scholar  as 
one  who  reads  Plato  with  his  feet  on  the  fender.  "When  al- 
ready well  on  in  his  third  year,  he  writes :  "  I  never  practiced 
composition  a  single  hour  since  I  have  been  at  Cambridge." 
"  Soak  your  mind  with  Cicero,"  was  his  constant  advice  to 
students  at  that  time  of  life  when  writing  Latin  prose  is  the 
most  lucrative  of  accomplishments.  The  advantage  of  this 
precept  was  proved  in  the  fellowship  examination  of  the  year 
1824,  when  he  obtained  the  honor  which  in  his  eyes  was  the 
most  desirable  that  Cambridge  had  to  give.  The  delight  of 
the  young  man  at  finding  himself  one  of  the  sixty  masters  of 
an  ancient  and  splendid  establishment ;  the  pride  with  which 
he  signed  his  first  order  for  the  college  plate,  and  dined  for 
the  first  time  at  the  high  table  in  his  own  right ;  the  reflection 
that  these  privileges  were  the  fruit,  not  of  favor  or  inheritance, 
but  of  personal  industry  and  ability,  were  matters  on  which 
he  loved  to  dwell  long  after  the  world  had  loaded  him  with 
its  most  envied  prizes.  Macaulay's  feeling  on  this  point  is 
illustrated  by  the  curious  reverence  which  he  cherished  for 
those  junior  members  of  the  college  who,  some  ninety  years 
ago,  by  a  spirited  remonstrance  addressed  to  the  governing 
body,  brought  about  a  reform  in  the  Trinity  fellowship  exam- 
ination that  secured  to  it  the  character  for  fair  play  and  effi- 
ciency which  it  has  ever  since  enjoyed.  In  his  copy  of  the 
"Cambridge  Calendar"  for  the  year  1859  (the  last  of  his 
life),  throughout  the  list  of  the  old  mathematical  triposes  the 
words  "  one  of  the  eight "  appear  in  his  handwriting  opposite 
the  name  of  each  of  these  gentlemen.  And  one,  at  any  rate, 
among  his  nephews  can  never  remember  the  time  when  it  was 


1818-'24.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  87 

not  diligently  impressed  upon  him  that,  if  he  minded  his  syn- 
tax, he  might  eventually  hope  to  reach  a  position  which  would 
give  him  three  hundred  pounds  a  year,  a  stable  for  his  horse, 
six  dozen  of  audit  ale  every  Christmas,  a  loaf  and  two  pats  of 
butter  every  morning,  and  a  good  dinner  for  nothing,  with  as 
many  almonds  and  raisins  as  he  could  eat  at  dessert. 

Macaulay  was  not  chosen  a  fellow  until  his  third  trial, 
nominally  for  the  amazing  reason  that  his  translations  from 
Greek  and  Latin,  while  faithfully  representing  -the  originals, 
were  rendered  into  English  that  was  ungracefully  bald  and 
inornate.  The  real  cause  was,  beyond  all  doubt,  his  utter  neg- 
lect of  the  special  study  of  the  place :  a  liberty  which  Cam- 
bridge seldom  allows  to  be  taken  with  impunity  even  by  her 
most  favored  sons.  He  used  to  profess  deep  and  lasting  re- 
gret for  his  early  repugnance  to  scientific  subjects;  but  the 
fervor  of  his  penitence  in  after -years  was  far  surpassed  by 
the  heartiness  with  which  he  inveighed  against  mathematics 
as  long  as  it  was  his  business  to  learn  them.  Every  one  who 
knows  the  Senate-house  may  anticipate  the  result.  When 
the  tripos  of  1822  made  its  appearance,  his  name  did  not  grace 
the  list.  In  short,  to  use  the  expressive  vocabulary  of  the  uni- 
versity, Macaulay  was  gulfed :  a  mishap  which  disabled  him 
from  contending  for  the  chancellor's  medals,  then  the  crown- 
ing trophies  of  a  classical  career.  "  I  well  remember,"  says 
Lady  Trevelyan,  "  that  first  trial  of  my  lif e.  We  were  spend- 
ing the  winter  at  Brighton,  when  a  letter  came  giving  an  ac- 
count of  the  event.  I  recollect  my  mother  taking  me  into  her 
room  to  tell  me ;  for  even  then  it  was  known  how  my  whole 
heart  was  wrapped  up  in  him,  and  it  was  thought  necessary  to 
break  the  news.  When  your  uncle  arrived  at  Brighton  I  can 
recall  my  mother  telling  him  that  he  had  better  go  at  once 
to  his  father,  and  get  it  over,  and  I  can  see  him  as  he  left  the 
room  on  that  errand." 

During  the  same  year  he  engaged  in  a  less  arduous  compe- 
tition. A  certain  Mr.  Greaves,  of  Fulbourn,  had  long  since 
provided  a  reward  of  ten  pounds  for  "the  junior  bachelor  of 
Trinity  College  who  wrote  the  best  essay  on  the '  Conduct  and 
Character  of  William  the  Third.' "  As  the  prize  is  annual,  it 


88  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  n. 

is  appalling  to  reflect  upon  the  searching  analysis  to  which  the 
motives  of  that  monarch  must  by  this  time  have  been  sub- 
jected. The  event,  however,  may  be  counted  as  an  encourage- 
ment to  the  founders  of  endowments,  for  amidst  the  succes- 
sion of  juvenile  critics  whose  attention  was  by  his  munificence 
turned  in  the  direction  of  his  favorite  hero,  Mr.  Greaves  had 
at  last  fallen  in  with  the  right  man.  It  is  more  than  probable 
that  to  this  old  Cambridgeshire  Whig  was  due  the  first  idea 
of  that  "  History  "  in  whose  pages  William  of  Orange  stands 
as  the  central  figure.  The  essay  is  still  in  existence,  in  a  close 
neat  hand  which  twenty  years  of  reviewing  never  rendered 
illegible.  Originally  written  as  a  fair  copy,  but  so  disfigured, 
by  repeated  corrections  and  additions,  as  to  be  unfit  for  the 
eyes  of  the  college  authorities,  it  bears  evident  marks  of  hav- 
ing been  held  to  the  flames,  and  rescued  on  second,  and  in  this 
case,  it  will  be  allowed,  on  better,  thoughts.  The  exercise, 
which  is  headed  by  the  very  appropriate  motto, 

Primus  qni  legibns  urbem 
Fundabit,  Curibns  parvis  et  paupere  terrA 
Missus  in  imperium  magnum, 

is  just  such  as  will  very  likely  be  produced  in  the  course  of  next 
Easter  term  by  some  young  man  of  judgment  and  spirit  who 
knows  his  Macaulay  by  heart,  and  will  paraphrase  him  with- 
out scruple.  The  characters  of  James,  of  Shaftesbury,  of 
William  himself ;  the  Popish  plot ;  the  struggle  over  the  Ex- 
clusion Bill ;  the  reaction  from  Puritanic  rigor  into  the  license 
of  the  Restoration,  are  drawn  on  the  same  lines  and  painted 
in  the  same  colors  as  those  with  which  the  world  is  now  famil- 
iar. The  style  only  wants  condensation,  and  a  little  of  the 
humor  which  he  had  not  yet  learned  to  transfer  from  his  con- 
versation to  his  writings,  jn  order  to  be  worthy  of  his  mature 
powers.  He  thus  describes  William's  life-long  enemy  and 
rival,  whose  name  he  already  spells  after  his  own  fashion : 
;'  Lewis  was  not  a  great  general.  He  was  not  a  great  legisla- 
tor. But  he  was,  in  one  sense  of  the  words,  a  great  king.  He 
was  a  perfect  master  of  all  the  mysteries  of  the  science  of  roy- 
alty— of  all  the  arts  which  at  once  extend  power  and  concili- 


1818-'24.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  89 

ate  popularity — which  most  advantageously  display  the  mer- 
its, or  most  dexterously  conceal  the  deficiencies,  of  a  sovereign. 
He  was  surrounded  by  great  men,  by  victorious  commanders, 
by  sagacious  statesmen.  Yet,  while  he  availed  himself  to  the 
utmost  of  their  services,  he  never  incurred  any  danger  from 
their  rivalry.  His  was  a  talisman  which  extorted  the  obedi- 
ence of  the  proudest  and  mightiest  spirits.  The  haughty  and 
turbulent  warriors  whose  contests  had  agitated  France  during 
his  minority  yielded  to  the  irresistible  spell,  and,  like  the  gi- 
gantic slaves  of  the  ring  and  lamp  of  Aladdin,  labored  to  dec- 
orate and  aggrandize  a  master  whom  they  could  have  crush- 
ed. "With  incomparable  address  he  appropriated  to  himself 
the  glory  of  campaigns  which  had  been  planned  and  counsels 
which  had  been  suggested  by  others.  The  arms  of  Turenne 
were  the  terror  of  Europe.  The  policy  of  Colbert  was  the 
strength  of  France.  But  in  their  foreign  successes  and  their 
internal  prosperity  the  people  saw  only  the  greatness  and  wis- 
dom of  Lewis."  In  the  second  chapter  of  the  "  History"  much 
of  this  is  compressed  into  the  sentence, "  He  had  shown,  in  an 
eminent  degree,  two  talents  invaluable  to  a  prince — the  talent 
of  choosing  his  servants  well,  and  the  talent  of  appropriating 
to  himself  the  chief  part  of  the  credit  of  their  acts." 

In  a  passage  that  occurs  toward  the  close  of  the  essay  may 
be  traced  something  more  than  an  outline  of  the  peroration  in 
which,  a  quarter  of  a  century  later  on,  he  summed  up  the 
character  and  results  of  the  Revolution  of  1688.  "  To  have 
been  a  sovereign,  yet  the  champion  of  liberty ;  a  revolutionary 
leader,  yet  the  supporter  of  social  order,  is  the  peculiar  glory 
of  William.  He  knew  where  to  pause.  He  outraged  no 
national  prejudice.  He  abolished  no  ancient  form.  He  al- 
tered no  venerable  name.  He  saw  that  the  existing  institu- 
tions possessed  the  greatest  capabilities  of  excellence,  and  that 
stronger  sanctions  and  clearer  definitions  were  alone  required 
to  make  the  practice  of  the  British  constitution  as  admirable 
as  the  theory.  Thus  he  imparted  to  innovation  the  dignity 
and  stability  of  antiquity.  He  transferred  to  a  happier  order 
of  things  the  associations  which  had  attached  the  people  to 
their  former  Government.  As  the  Roman  warrior,  before  he 


90  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.II. 

assaulted  Yeii,  invoked  its  guardian  gods  to  leave  its  walls, 
and  to  accept  the  worship  and  patronize  the  cause  of  the  be- 
siegers, this  great  prince,  in  attacking  a  system  of  oppression, 
summoned  to  his  aid  the  venerable  principles  and  deeply 
seated  feelings  to  which  that  system  was  indebted  for  protec- 
tion." 

A  letter  written  during  the  later  years  of  his  life  expresses 
Macaulay's  general  views  on  the  subject  of  university  honors. 
"  If  a  man  brings  away  from  Cambridge  self-knowledge,  ac- 
curacy of  mind,  and  habits  of  strong  intellectual  exertion,  he 
has  gained  more  than  if  he  had  made  a  display  of  showy  super- 
ficial Etonian  scholarship,  got  three  or  four  Brown's  medals, 
and  gone  forth  into  the  world  a  school-boy,  and  doomed  to  be 
a  school-boy  to  the  last.  After  all,  what  a  man  does  at  Cam- 
bridge is,  in  itself,  nothing.  If  he  makes  a  poor  figure  in  life, 
his  having  been  senior  wrangler  or  university  scholar  is  never 
mentioned  but  with  derision.  If  he  makes  a  distinguished 
figure,  his  early  honors  merge  in  those  of  a  later  date.  I 
hope  that  I  do  not  overrate  my  own  place  in  the  estimation 
of  society.  Such  as  it  is,  I  would  not  give  a  half -penny  to  add 
to  the  consideration  which  I  enjoy  all  the  consideration  that  I 
should  derive  from  having  been  senior  wrangler.  But  I  oft- 
en regret,  and  even  acutely,  my  want  of  a  senior  wrangler's 
knowledge  of  physics  and  mathematics ;  and  I  regret  still 
more  some  habits  of  mind  which  a  senior  wrangler  is  pretty 
certain  to  possess."  Like  all  men  who  know  what  the  world 
is,  he  regarded  the  triumphs  of  a  college  career  as  of  less 
value  than  its  disappointments.  Those  are  most  to  be  envied 
who  soonest  learn  to  expect  nothing  for  which  they  have  not 
worked  hard,  and  who  never  acquire  the  habit  (a  habit  which 
an  unbroken  course  of  university  successes  too  surely  breeds), 
of  pitying  themselves  overmuch  if  ever,  in  after  -life,  they 
happen  to  work  in  vain. 

Cambridge,  Wednesday.     (Postmark,  1818.) 

MY  DEAK  MOTHER, — King,  I  am  absolutely  certain,  would 
take  no  more  pupils  on  any  account.  And,  even  if  he  would, 
he  has  numerous  applicants  with  prior  claims.  He  has  al- 


1818-'24.]  LOED  MACAULAY.  91 

ready  six,  who  occupy  him  six  hours  in  the  day,  and  is  like- 
wise lecturer  to  the  college.  It  would,  however,  be  very  easy 
to  obtain  an  excellent  tutor.  Lef  evre  and  Malkin  are  men  of 
first -rate  mathematical  abilities,  and  both  of  our  college.  I 
can  scarcely  bear  to  write  on  mathematics  or  mathematicians. 
Oh  for  words  to  express  my  abomination  of  that  science,  if  a 
name  sacred  to  the  useful  and  embellishing  arts  may  be  ap- 
plied to  the  perception  and  recollection  of  certain  properties 
in  numbers  and  figures !  Oh  that  I  had  to  learn  astrology,  or 
demonology,  or  school  divinity ;  oh  that  I  were  to  pore  over 
Thomas  Aquinas,  and  to  adjust  the  relation  of  Entity  with  the 
two  Predicaments,  so  that  I  were  exempted  from  this  miser- 
able study  !  "  Discipline  "  of  the  mind !  Say  rather  starva- 
tion, confinement,  torture,  annihilation !  But  it  must  be.  I 
feel  myself  becoming  a  personification  of  algebra,  a  living 
trigonometrical  canon,  a  walking  table  of  logarithms.  All 
my  perceptions  of  elegance  and  beauty  gone,  or  at  least  going. 
By  the  end  of  the  term  my  brain  will  be  "as  dry  as  the  re- 
mainder biscuit  after  a  voyage."  Oh  to  change  Cam  for  Isis ! 
But  such  is  my  destiny ;  and  since  it  is  so,  be  the  pursuit  con- 
temptible, below  contempt,  or  disgusting  beyond  abhorrence,  I 
shall  aim  at  no  second  place.  But  three  years !  I  can  not 
endure  the  thought.  I  can  not  bear  to  contemplate  what  I 
must  have  to  undergo.  Farewell,  then,  Homer  and  Sophocles 

and  Cicero. 

Farewell,  happy  fields, 

Where  joy  forever  reigns !    Hail,  horrors,  hail, 
Infernal  world ! 

How  does  it  proceed  ?  Milton's  descriptions  have  been  driven 
out  of  my  head  by  such  elegant  expressions  as  the  following : 

X*  i-4  <*' 

Cos.  x  =.  1 


Tan.  a  +  6  = 


1-2       1-2-3-4       1-2-3-4-5-6 
Tan.  a  +  Tan.  6 


1  — Tan.  a  +  Tan.  & 


My  classics  must  be  Woodhouse,  and  my  amusements  sum- 
ming an  infinite  series.  Farewell ;  and  tell  Selina  and  Jane 
to  be  thankful  that  it  is  not  a  necessary  part  of  female  edu- 


92  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  11. 

cation  to  get  a  headache  daily  without  acquiring  one  practical 
truth  or  beautiful  image  in  return.  Again,  and  with  affection- 
ate love  to  my  father,  farewell  wishes  your  most  miserable 
and  mathematical  son,  T.  B.  MACAULAY. 

Cambridge,  November  9th,  1818. 

MY  DEAR  FATHER,  —  Tour  letter,  which  I  read  with  the 
greatest  pleasure,  is  perfectly  safe  from  all  persons  who  could 
make  a  bad  use  of  it.  The  Emperor  Alexander's  plans,  as  de- 
tailed in  the  conversation  between  him  and  Clarkson,*  are  al- 
most superhuman;  and  tower  as  much  above  the  common 
hopes  and  aspirations  of  philanthropists  as  the  statue  which 
his  Macedonian  namesake  proposed  to  hew  out  of  Mount 
Athos  excelled  the  most  colossal  works  of  meaner  projectors. 
As  Burke  said  of  Henry  the  Fourth's  wish  that  every  peasant 
in  France  might  have  the  chicken  in  his  pot  comfortably  on 
a  Sunday,  we  may  say  of  these  mighty  plans, "  The  mere  wish, 
the  unfulfilled  desire,  exceeded  all  that  we  hear  of  the  splen- 
did professions  and  exploits  of  princes."  Yet  my  satisfaction 
in  the  success  of  that  noble  cause  in  which  the  emperor  seems 
to  be  exerting  himself  with  so  much  zeal  is  scarcely  so  great 
as  my  regret  for  the  man  who  would  have  traced  every  step 
of  its  progress  with  anxiety,  and  hailed  its  success  with  the 
most  ardent  delight.  Poor  Sir  Samuel  Eomilly !  Quando 
ullum  invenient  parem  ?  How  long  may  a  penal  code,  at  once 
too  sanguinary  and  too  lenient,  half  written  in  blood  like 
Draco's,  and  half  undefined  and  loose  as  the  common  law  of 
a  tribe  of  savages,  be  the  curse  and  disgrace  of  the  country  ? 
How  many  years  may  elapse  before  a  man  who  knows,  like 
him,  all  that  law  can  teach,  and  possesses  at  the  same  time, 
like  him,  a  liberality  and  a  discernment  of  general  rights 
which  the  technicalities  of  professional  learning  rather  tend  to 
blunt,  shall  again  rise  to  ornament  and  reform  our  jurispru- 
dence ?  For  such  a  man,  if  he  had  fallen  in  the  maturity  of 
years  and  honors,  and  been  borne  from  the  bed  of  sickness  to 
a  grave  by  the  side  of  his  prototype  Hale  amidst  the  tears  of 

*  Thomas  Clarkson,  the  famous  assailant  of  slavery. 


1818-'24.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  93 

nobles  and  senators,  even  then,  I  think,  the  public  sorrow 
would  have  been  extreme.  But  that  the  last  moments  of  an 
existence  of  high  thoughts  and  great  virtues  should  have  been 
passed  as  his  were  passed !  In  my  feelings  the  scene  at  Clare- 
mont*  this  time  last  year  was  mere  dust  in  the  balance  in 
comparison.  Ever  your  affectionate  son,  T.  B.  M. 

Cambridge,  Friday,  February  5th,  1819. 

MY  DEAK  FATHER, — I  have  not,  of  course,  had  time  to  exam- 
ine with  attention  all  your  criticisms  on  "  Pompeii."f  I  cer- 
tainly am  much  obliged  to  you  for  withdrawing  so  much  time 
from  more  important  business  to  correct  my  effusions.  Most 
of  the  remarks  which  I  have  examined  are  perfectly  just :  but 
as  to  the  more  momentous  charge,  the  want  of  a  moral,  I  think 
it  might  be  a  sufficient  defense  that,  if  a  subject  is  given 
which  admits  of  none,  the  man  who  writes  without  a  moral  is 
scarcely  censurable.  But  is  it  the  real  fact  that  no  literary 
employment  is  estimable  or  laudable  which  does  not  lead  to 
the  spread  of  moral  truth  or  the  excitement  of  virtuous  feel- 
ing? Books  of  amusement  tend  to  polish  the  mind,  to  im- 
prove the  style,  to  give  variety  to  conversation,  and  to  lend  a 
grace  to  more  important  accomplishments.  He  who  can  effect 
this  has  surely  done  something.  Is  no  useful  end  served  by 
that  writer  whose  works  have  soothed  weeks  of  languor  and 
sickness,  have  relieved  the  mind  exhausted  from  the  pressure 
of  employment  by  an  amusement  which  delights  without 
enervating,  which  relaxes  the  tension  of  the  powers  without 
rendering  them  unfit  for  future  exercise?  I  should  not  be 
surprised  to  see  these  observations  refuted ;  and  I  shall  not  be 
sorry  if  they  are  so.  I  feel  personally  little  interest  in  the 
question.  If  my  life  be  a  life  of  literature,  it  shall  certainly 
be  one  of  literature  directed  to  moral  ends. 

At  all  events,  let  us  be  consistent.  I  was  amused  in  turning 
over  an  old  volume  of  the  Christian  Observer  to  find  a  gentle- 

*  The  death  of  Princess  Charlotte. 

t  The  subject  of  the  English  poem  for  the  chancellor's  prize  of  1819  was 
the  "  Destructiou  of  Pompeii." 


94  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  n. 

man  signing  himself  Excubitor  (one  of  our  antagonists  in  the 
question  of  novel-reading),  after  a  very  pious  argument  on  the 
hostility  of  novels  to  a  religious  frame  of  mind,  proceeding  to 
observe  that  he  was  shocked  to  hear  a  young  lady  who  had 
displayed  extraordinary  knowledge  of  modern  ephemeral  liter- 
ature own  herself  ignorant  of  Dryden's  fables!  Consistency 
with  a  vengeance !  The  reading  of  modern  poetry  and  novels 
excites  a  worldly  disposition  and  prevents  ladies  from  reading 
Dryden's  fables !  There  is  a  general  disposition  among  the 
more  literary  part  of  the  religious  world  to  ciy  down  the  ele- 
gant literature  of  our  own  times,  while  they  are  not  in  the 
slightest  degree  shocked  at  atrocious  profaneness  or  gross  in- 
delicacy when  a  hundred  years  have  stamped  them  with  the  title 
of  classical.  I  say, "  If  you  read  Dryden  you  can  have  no  rea- 
sonable objection  to  reading  Scott."  The  strict  antagonist  of 
ephemeral  reading  exclaims, "  Not  so.  Scott's  poems  are  very 
pernicious.  They  call  away  the  mind  from  spiritual  religion 
and  from  Tancred  and  Sigismunda."  But  I  am  exceeding  all 
ordinary  limits.  If  these  hasty  remarks  fatigue  you,  impute 
it  to  my  desire  of  justifying  myself  from  a  charge  which  I 
should  be  sorry  to  incur  with  justice.  Love  to  all  at  home. 
Affectionately  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

"With  or  without  a  moral,  the  poem  carried  the  day.  The 
subject  for  the  next  year  was  "  Waterloo."  The  opening  lines 
of  Macaulay's  exercise  were  pretty  and  simple  enough  to  ruin 
his  chance  in  an  academical  competition. 

It  was  the  Sabbath  morn.     How  calm  and  fair 

Is  the  blest  dawning  of  the  day  of  prayer  J 

Who  hath  not  felt  how  fancy's  mystic  power 

With  holier  beauty  decks  that  solemn  hour ; 

A  softer  lustre  in  its  sunshine  sees ; 

And  hears  a  softer  music  in  its  breeze  ? 

Who  hath  not  dreamed  that  even  the  sky-lark's  throat 

Hails  that  sweet  morning  with  a  gentler  note  T 

Fair  morn,  how  gayly  shone  thy  dawning  smile 

On  the  green  valleys  of  my  native  isle ! 

How  gladly  many  a  spire's  resounding  height 

With  peals  of  transport  hailed  thy  new-born  light ! 


181&-'24.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  95 

Ah !  little  thought  the  peasant  then,  who  blest 
The  peaceful  hour  of  consecrated  rest, 
And  heard  the  rustic  Temple's  arch  prolong 
The  simple  cadence  of  the  hallowed  song, 
That  the  same  sun  illumed  a  gory  field, 
Where  wilder  song  and  sterner  music  pealed ; 
Where  many  a  yell  unholy  rent  the  air, 
And  many  a  hand  was  raised — but  not  in  prayer. 

The  prize  fell  to  a  man  of  another  college,  and  Trinity  com- 
forted itself  by  inventing  a  story  to  the  effect  that  the  success- 
ful candidate  had  run  away  from  the  battle. 

In  the  summer  of  1819  there  took  place  a  military  affair, 
less  attractive  than  Waterloo  as  a  theme  for  poets,  but  which, 
as  far  as  this  country  is  concerned,  has  proved  even  more 
momentous  in  its  ultimate  consequences.  On  the  16th  of 
August,  a  Reform  demonstration  was  arranged  at  Manchester 
resembling  those  which  were  common  in  the  Northern  dis- 
tricts during  the  year  1866,  except  that  in  1819  women  form- 
ed an  important  element  in  the  procession.  A  troop  of  yeo- 
manry, and  afterward  two  squadrons  of  hussars,  were  sent  in 
among  the  crowd,  which  was  assembled  in  St.  Peter's  Fields, 
the  site  on  which  the  Free-Trade  Hall  now  stands.  The  men 
used  their  swords  freely,  and  the  horses  their  hoofs.  The 
people,  who  meant  any  thing  but  fighting,  trampled  each  other 
down  in  the  attempt  to  escape.  Five  or  six  lives  were  lost, 
and  fifty  or  sixty  persons  were  badly  hurt ;  but  the  painful 
impression  wrought  upon  the  national  conscience  was  well 
worth  the  price.  British  blood  has  never  since  been  shed  by 
British  hands  in  any  civic  contest  that  rose  above  the  level  of 
a  lawless  riot.  The  immediate  result,  however,  was  to  concen- 
trate and  imbitter  party  feeling.  The  grand  jury  threw  out 
the  bills  against  the  yeomen,  and  found  true  bills  against  the 
popular  orators  who  had  called  the  meeting  together.  The 
common  councilmen  of  the  city  of  London,  who  had  pre- 
sented an  address  to  the  prince  regent  reflecting  upon  the 
conduct  of  the  Government,  were  roundly  rebuked  for  their 
pains.  Earl  Fitzwilliam  was  dismissed  from  the  office  of  lord 
lieutenant  for  taking  part  in  a  Yorkshire  county  gathering 


96  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  H. 

which  had  passed  resolutions  in  the  same  sense  as  the  address 
from  the  City.  On  the  other  hand,  a  Peterloo  medal  was 
struck,  which  is  still  treasured  in  such  Manchester  families 
as  have  not  learned  to  be  ashamed  of  the  old  Manchester  pol- 
itics. 

In  this  heated  state  of  the  political  atmosphere  the  expiring 
Toryism  of  the  antislavery  leaders  flamed  up  once  again.  "  I 
declare,"  said  Wilberforce,  "my  greatest  cause  of  difference 
with  the  democrats  is  their  laying,  and  causing  people  to  lay, 
so  great  a  stress  on  the  concerns  of  this  world  as  to  occupy 
their  whole  minds  and  hearts,  and  to  leave  a  few  scanty  and 
lukewarm  thoughts  for  the  heavenly  treasure."  Zachary  Mac- 
aulay,  who  never  canted,  and  who  knew  that  on  the  16th  of 
August  the  Manchester  magistrates  were  thinking  just  as 
much  or  as  little  about  religion  as  the  Manchester  populace, 
none  the  less  took  the  same  side  as  Wilberforce.  Having 
formed  for  himself,  by  observations  made  on  the  spot,  a  de- 
cided opinion  that  the  authorities  ought  to  be  supported,  he 
was  much  disturbed  by  reports  which  came  to  him  from  Cam- 
bridge. 

September,  1819. 

MY  DEAR  FATHER, — My  mother's  letter,  which  has  just  ar- 
rived, has  given  me  much  concern.  The  letter  which  has,  I 
am  sorry  to  learn,  given  you  and  her  uneasiness,  was  written 
rapidly  and  thoughtlessly  enough,  but  can  scarcely,  I  think,  as 
far  as  I  remember  its  tenor,  justify  some  of  the  extraordina- 
ry inferences  which  it  has  occasioned.  I  can  only  assure  you 
most  solemnly  that  I  am  not  initiated  into  any  democratical 
societies  here,  and  that  I  know  no  people  who  make  politics  a 
common  or  frequent  topic  of  conversation,  except  one  man 
who  is  a  determined  Tory.  It  is  true  that  this  Manchester 
business  has  roused  some  indignation  here,  as  at  other  places, 
and  drawn  philippics  against  the  powers  that  be  from  lips 
which  I  never  heard  opened  before  but  to  speak  on  university 
contests  or  university  scandal.  For  myself,  I  have  long  made 
it  a  rule  never  to  talk  on  politics  except  in  the  most  general 
manner  ;  and  I  believe  that  my  most  intimate  associates  have 
no  idea  of  my  opinions  on  the  questions  of  party.  I  can 


1818-'24.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  97 

scarcely  be  censured,  I  think,  for  imparting  them  to  you — 
which,  however,  I  should  scarcely  have  thought  of  doing  (so 
much  is  my  mind  occupied  with  other  concerns),  had  not  your 
letter  invited  me  to  state  my  sentiments  on  the  Manchester 
business. 

I  hope  that  this  explanation  will  remove  some  of  your  un- 
easiness. As  to  my  opinions,  I  have  no  particular  desire  to 
vindicate  them.  They  are  merely  speculative,  and  therefore 
can  not  partake  of  the  nature  of  moral  culpability.  They  are 
early  formed,  and  I  am  not  solicitous  that  you  should  think 
them  superior  to  those  of  most  people  at  eighteen.  I  will, 
however,  say  this  in  their  defense.  Whatever  the  affection- 
ate alarm  of  my  dear  mother  may  lead  her  to  apprehend,  I  am 
not  one  of  the  "sons  of  anarchy  and  confusion"  with  whom 
she  classes  me.  My  opinions,  good  or  bad,  were  learned,  not 
from  Hunt  and  Waithman,  but  from  Cicero,  from  Tacitus,  and 
from  Milton.  They  are  the  opinions  which  have  produced 
men  who  have  ornamented  the  world  and  redeemed  human 
nature  from  the  degradation  of  ages  of  superstition  and  slav- 
ery. I  may  be  wrong  as  to  the  facts  of  what  occurred  at  Man- 
chester ;  but,  if  they  be  what  I  have  seen  them  stated,  I  can 
never  repent  speaking  of  them  with  indignation.  When  I 
cease  to  feel  the  injuries  of  others  warmly,  to  detest  wanton 
cruelty,  and  to  feel  my  soul  rise  against  oppression,  I  shall 
think  myself  unworthy  to  be  your  son. 

I  could  say  a  great  deal  more.  Above  all,  I  might,  I  think, 
ask,  with  some  reason,  why  a  few  democratical  sentences  in  a 
letter,  a  private  letter,  of  a  collegian  of  eighteen  should  be 
thought  so  alarming  an  indication  of  character,  when  Brough- 
am and  other  people,  who,  at  an  age  which  ought  to  have  so- 
bered them,  talk  with  much  more  violence,  are  not  thought 
particularly  ill  of  ?  But  I  have  so  little  room  left  that  I  ab- 
stain, and  will  only  add  thus  much.  Were  my  opinions  as  de- 
cisive as  they  are  fluctuating,  and  were  the  elevation  of  a 
Cromwell  or  the  renown  of  a  Hampden  the  certain  reward  of 
my  standing  forth  in  the  democratic  cause,  I  would  rather 
have  my  lips  sealed  on  the  subject  than  give  my  mother  or 
you  one  hour  of  uneasiness.  There  are  not  so  many  people  in 

VOL.  I.— 7 


98  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  u. 

the  world  who  love  me  that  I  can  afford  to  pain  them  for  any 
object  of  ambition  which  it  contains.  If  this  assurance  be  not 
sufficient,  clothe  it  in  what  language  you  please,  and  believe 
me  to  express  myself  in  those  words  which  you  think  the 
strongest  and  most  solemn.  Affectionate  love  to  my  mother 
and  sisters.  Farewell.  T.  B.  M. 

Cambridge,  January  5th,  1820. 

MY  DEAR  FATHER, — Nothing  that  gives  you  disquietude  can 
give  me  amusement.  Otherwise  I  should  have  been  excess- 
ively diverted  by  the  dialogue  which  you  have  reported  with 
so  much  vivacity;  the  accusation;  the  predictions;  and  the 
elegant  agnomen  of  "  the  novel-reader "  for  which  I  am  in- 
debted to  this  incognito.  I  went  in  some  amazement  to  Mai- 
den, Romilly,  and  Barlow.  Their  acquaintance  comprehends, 
I  will  venture  to  say,  almost  every  man  worth  knowing  in  the 
university  in  every  field  of  study.  They  had  never  heard  the 
appellation  applied  to  me  by  any  man.  Their  intimacy  with 
me  would  of  course  prevent  any  person  from  speaking  to  them 
on  the  subject  in  an  insulting  manner;  for  it  is  not  usual 
here,  whatever  your  unknown  informant  may  do,  for  a  gentle- 
man who  does  not  wish  to  be  kicked  down-stairs  to  reply  to  a 
man  who  mentions  another  as  his  particular  friend, "  Do  you 
mean  the  blackguard  or  the  novel-reader?"  But  I  am -fully 
convinced  that,  had  the  charge  prevailed  to  any  extent,  it  must 
have  reached  the  ears  of  one  of  those  whom  I  interrogated. 
At  all  events,  I  have  the  consolation  of  not  being  thought  a 
novel-reader  by  three  or  four  who  are  entitled  to  judge  upon 
the  subject ;  and  whether  their  opinion  be  of  equal  value  with 
that  of  this  John-a-Nokes  against  whom  I  have  to  plead,  I 
leave  you  to  decide. 

But  stronger  evidence,  it  seems,  is  behind.  This  gentleman 
was  in  company  with  me.  Alas  that  I  should  never  have 
found  out  how  accurate  an  observer  was  measuring  my  senti- 
ments, numbering  the  novels  which  I  criticised,  and  specula- 
ting on  the  probability  of  my  being  plucked.  "  I  was  famil- 
iar with  all  the  novels  whose  names  he  had  ever  heard."  If 
so  frightful  an  accusation  did  not  stun  me  at  once,  I  might 


1818-'24.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  99 

perhaps  hint  at  the  possibility  that  this  was  to  be  attributed 
almost  as  much  to  the  narrowness  of  his  reading  on  this  sub- 
ject as  to  the  extent  of  mine.  There  are  men  here  who  are 
mere  mathematical  blocks,  who  plod  on  their  eight  hours  a 
day  to  the  honors  of  the  Senate-house  ;  who  leave  the  groves 
which  witnessed  the  musings  of  Milton,  of  Bacon,  and  of 
Gray,  without  one  liberal  idea  or  elegant  image,  and  carry 
with  them  into  the  world  minds  contracted  by  unmingled  at- 
tention to  one  part  of  science,  and  memories  stored  only  with 
technicalities.  How  often  have  I  seen  such  men  go  forth  into 
society  for  people  to  stare  at  them,  and  ask  each  other  how  it 
comes  that  beings  so  stupid  in  conversation,  so  uninformed  on 
every  subject  of  history,  of  letters,  and  of  taste,  could  gain 
such  distinction  at  Cambridge !  It  is  in  such  circles,  which,  I 
am  happy  to  say,  I  hardly  know  but  by.  report,  that  knowledge 
of  modern  literature  is  called  novel-reading:  a  commodious 
name,  invented  by  ignorance  and  applied  by  envy,  in  the  same 
manner  as  men  without  learning  call  a  scholar  a  pedant,  and 
men  without  principle  call  a  Christian  a  Methodist.  To  me 
the  attacks  of  such  men  are  valuable  as  compliments.  The 
man  whose  friend  tells  him  that  he  is  known  to  be  extensively 
acquainted  with  elegant  literature  may  suspect  that  he  is  nat- 
tering him ;  but  he  may  feel  real  and  secure  satisfaction  when 
some  Johnian  sneers  at  him  for  a  novel-reader. 

As  to  the  question  whether  or  not  I  am  wasting  time,  I  shall 
leave  that  for  time  to  answer.  I  can  not  afford  to  sacrifice  a 
day  every  week  in  defense  and  explanation  as  to  my  habits 
of  reading.  I  value,  most  deeply  value,  that  solicitude  which 
arises  from  your  affection  for  me;  but  let  it  not  debar  me 
from  justice  and  candor.  Believe  me  ever,  my  dear  father, 
Your  most  affectionate  son,  T.  B.  M. 

The  father  and  son  were  in  sympathy  upon  what,  at  this 
distance  of  time,  appears  as  the  least  inviting  article  of  the 
"Whig  creed.  They  were  both  partisans  of  the  queen.  Zach- 
ary  Macaulay  was  inclined  in  her  favor  by  sentiments  alike  of 
friendship  and  of  the  most  pardonable  resentment.  Brough- 
am, her  illustrious  advocate,  had  for  ten  years  been  the  main 


100  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  n. 

hope  and  stay  of  the  movement  against  slavery  and  the  slave- 
trade  ;  while  the  John  J3utt,  whose  special  mission  it  was  to 
write  her  down,  honored  the  Abolitionist  party  with  its  de- 
clared animosity.  However  full  its  columns  might  be  of  li- 
bels upon  the  honor  of  the  wives  and  daughters  of  "Whig 
statesmen,  it  could  always  find  room  for  calumnies  against 
Mr.  Macaulay  which  in  ingenuity  of  fabrication  and  in  cruelty 
of  intention  were  conspicuous  even  among  the  contents  of  the' 
most  discreditable  publication  that  ever  issued  from  the  Lon- 
don press.  When  Queen  Caroline  landed  from  the  Continent 
in  June,  1820,  the  young  Trinity  under-graduate  greeted  her 
majesty  with  a  complimentary  ode,  which  certainly  little  re- 
sembled those  effusions  that  in  the  old  courtly  days  a  univer- 
sity was  accustomed  to  lay  at  the  feet  of  its  sovereign.  The 
piece  has  no  literary  value,  and  is  curious  only  as  reflecting  the 
passion  of  the  hour.  The  first  and  last  stanzas  run  as  follows : 

Let  mirth  on  every  visage  shine, 

And  glow  in  every  soul. 
Bring  forth,  bring  forth,  the  oldest  wine, 

And  crown  the  largest  bowl. 
Bear  to  her  home,  while  banners  fly 

From  each  resounding  steeple, 
And  rockets  sparkle  in  the  sky, 

The  Daughter  of  the  People. 
E'en  here,  for  one  triumphant  day, 

Let  want  and  woe  be  dumb, 
And  bonfires  blaze,  and  school-boys  play. 

Thank  Heaven  our  queen  is  come ! 

***** 

Though  tyrant  hatred  still  denies 

Each  right  that  fits  thy  station, 
To  thee  a  people's  love  supplies 

A  nobler  coronation : 
A  coronation  all  unknown 

To  Europe's  royal  vermin: 
For  England's  heart  shall  be  thy  throne, 

And  purity  thine  ermine ; 
Thy  Proclamation  our  applause, 

Applause  denied  to  some ; 
Thy  crown  our  love ;  thy  shield  our  laws. 

Thank  Heaven  our  queen  is  come ! 


1818-'24.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  101 

Early  in  November,  warned  by  growing  excitement  outside 
the  House  of  Lords,  and  by  dwindling  majorities  within,  Lord 
Liverpool  announced  that  the  king's  ministers  had  come  to 
the  determination  not  to  proceed  further  with  the  Bill  of 
Pains  and  Penalties.  The  joy  which  this  declaration  spread 
through  the  country  has  been  described  as  "  beyond  the  scope 
of  record." 

Cambridge,  November  13th,  1820. 

MY  DEAB  FATHER,  —  All  here  is  ecstasy.  "Thank  God, 
the  country  is  saved,"  were  my  first  words  when  I  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  papers  of  Friday  night.  "  Thank  God,  the 
country  is  saved,"  is  written  on  every  face,  and  echoed  by 
every  voice.  Even  the  symptoms  of  popular  violence,  three 
days  ago  so  terrific,  are  now  displayed  with  good  humor,  and 
received  with  cheerfulness.  Instead  of  curses  on  the  Lords, 
on  every  post  and  every  wall  is  written,  "All  is  as  it  should 
be ;"  "  Justice  done  at  last,"  and  similar  mottoes  expressive 
of  the  sudden  turn  of  public  feeling.  How  the  case  may 
stand  in  London,  I  do  not  know ;  but  here  the  public  danger, 
like  all  dangers  which  depend  merely  on  human  opinions  and 
feelings,  has  disappeared  from  our  sight  almost  in  the  twink- 
ling of  an  eye.  I  hope  that  the  result  of  these  changes  may 
be  the  secure  re-establishment  of  our  commerce,  which  I  sup- 
pose political  apprehensions  must  have  contributed  to  depress. 
I  hope,  at  least,  that  there  is  no  danger  to  our  own  fortunes  of 
the  kind  at  which  you  seem  to  hint.  Be  assured,  however,  my 
dear  father,  that,  be  our  circumstances  what  they  may,  I  feel 
firmly  prepared  to  encounter  the  worst  with  fortitude,  and  to 
do  my  utmost  to  retrieve  it  by  exertion.  The  best  inheritance 
you  have  already  secured  to  me,  an  unblemished  name  and  a 
good  education.  And  for  the  rest,  whatever  calamities  befall 
us,  I  would  not,  to  speak  without  affectation,  exchange  adver- 
sity consoled,  as  with  us  it  must  ever  be,  by  mutual  affection 
and  domestic  happiness,  for  any  thing  which  can  be  possessed 
by  those  who  are  destitute  of  the  kindness  of  parents  and  sis- 
ters like  mine.  But  I  think,  on  referring  to  your  letter,  that 
I  insist  too  much  upon  the  signification  of  a  few  words.  I 
hope  so,  and  trust  that  every  thing  will  go  well.  But  it  is 


102  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  n. 

chapel  time,  and  I  must  conclude.    Ever  most  affectionately 
yours,  T.  B.  MA  CAUL  AY. 

Trin.  Coll.,  March  25th,  1821. 

MY  DEAR  MOTHER, — I  entreat  you  to  entertain  no  apprehen- 
sions about  my  health.  My  fever,  cough,  and  sore-throat  have 
all  disappeared  for  the  last  four  days.  Many  thanks  for  your 
intelligence  about  poor  dear  John's  recovery,  which  has  much 
exhilarated  me.  Yet  I  do  not  know  whether  illness  to  him  is 
not  rather  a  prerogative  than  an  evil.  I  am  sure  that  it  is 
well  worth  while  being  sick  to  be  nursed  by  a  mother.  There 
is  nothing  which  I  remember  with  such  pleasure  as  the  time 
when  you  nursed  me  at  Aspenden.  The  other  night,  when  I 
lay  on  my  sofa  very  ill  and  hypochondriac,  I  was  thinking 
over  that  tune.  How  sick,  and  sleepless,  and  weak  I  was,  ly- 
ing in  bed,  when  I  was  told  that  you  were  come !  How  well 
I  remember  with  what  an  ecstasy  of  joy  I  saw  that  face  ap- 
proaching me,  in  the  middle  of  people  that  did  not  care  if  I 
died  that  night,  except  for  the  trouble  of  burying  me !  The 
sound  of  your  voice,  the  touch  of  your  hand,  are  present  to 
me  now,  and  will  be,  I  trust  in  God,  to  my  last  hour.  The 
very  thought  of  these  things  invigorated  me  the  other  day; 
and  I  almost  blessed  the  sickness  and  low  spirits  which 
brought  before  me  associated  images  of  a  tenderness  and  an 
affection,  which,  however  imperfectly  repaid,  are  deeply  re- 
membered. Such  scenes  and  such  recollections  are  the  bright 
half  of  human  nature  and  human  destiny.  All  objects  of 
ambition,  all  rewards  of  talent,  sink  into  nothing  compared 
with  that  affection  which  is  independent  of  good  or  adverse 
circumstances,  excepting  that  it  is  never  so  ardent,  so  deli- 
cate, or  so  tender  as  in  the  hour  of  languor  or  distress.  But  I 
must  stop.  I  had  no  intention  of  pouring  out  on  paper  what 
I  am  much  more  used  to  think  than  to  express.  Farewell,  my 
dear  mother.  Ever  yours,  affectionately, 

T.  B.  MACAULAY. 

Macaulay  liked  Cambridge  too  well  to  spend  the  long  vaca- 
tion elsewhere  except  under  strong  compulsion :  but  in  1821, 


1818-'24.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  103 

with  the  terrors  of  the  mathematical  tripos  already  close  at 
hand,  he  was  persuaded  into  joining  a  reading-party  in  Wales, 
with  a  Mr.  Bird  as  tutor.  Eardley  Childers,  the  father  of  the 
statesman  of  that  name,  has  preserved  a  pleasant  little  memo- 
rial of  the  expedition. 

To  Charles  Smith  Bird,  Eardley  Childers,  Thos.  B.  Macaulay, 
William  Clayton  Walters,  Geo.  B.  Paley,  Robert  Jarratt, 
Thos.  Jarratt,  Edwin  Kempson,  Ebenezer  Ware,  Wm.  Corn- 
wall, John  Greenwood,  J.  Lloyd,  and  Jno.  Wm.  GleadaU, 

Esquires  : 

GENTLEMEN, — We,  the  undersigned,  for  ourselves  and  the  in- 
habitants in  general  of  the  town  of  Llanrwst,  in  the  county  of 
Denbigh,  consider  it  our  duty  to  express  to  you  the  high  sense 
we  entertain  of  your  general  good  conduct  and  demeanor  dur- 
ing your  residence  here,  and  we  assure  you  that  we  view  with 
much  regret  the  period  of  your  separation  and  departure  from 
among  us.  We  are  very  sensible  of  the  obligation  we  are 
under  for  your  uniformly  benevolent  and  charitable  exertions 
upon  several  public  occasions,  and  we  feel  peculiar  pleasure  in 
thus  tendering  to  you  individually  our  gratitude  and  thanks. 

Wishing  you  all  possible  prosperity  and  happiness  in  your 
future  avocations,  we  subscribe  ourselves  with  unfeigned  re- 
spect, gentlemen,  your  most  obedient  servants, 

REV.  JOHN  TILTEY,  etc.,  etc. 
(25  signatures.) 

In  one  respect  Macaulay  hardly  deserved  his  share  of  this 
eulogium.  A  scheme  was  on  foot  in  the  town  to  found  an 
auxiliary  branch  of  the  Bible  Society.  A  public  meeting  was 
called,  and  Mr.  Bird  urged  his  eloquent  pupil  to  aid  the  proj- 
ect with  a  specimen  of  Union  rhetoric.  Macaulay,  however, 
had  had  enough  of  the  Bible  Society  at  Clapham,  and  sturdily 
refused  to  come  forward  as  its  champion  at  Llanrwst. 

Llanrwst,  July  — ,  1821. 

MY  DEAR  MOTHEE, — You  see  I  know  not  how  to  date  my 
letter.  My  calendar  in  this  sequestered  spot  is  as  irregular  as 


104  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  n. 

Robinson  Crusoe's  after  he  had  missed  one  day  in  his  calcula- 
tion. I  have  no  intelligence  to  send  you,  unless  a  battle  be- 
tween a  drunken  attorney  and  an  impudent  publican  which 
took  place  here  yesterday  may  deserve  the  appellation.  You 
may,  perhaps,  be  more  interested  to  hear  that  I  sprained  my 
foot,  and  am  just  recovering  from  the  effects  of  the  accident 
by  means  of  opodeldoc  which  I  bought  at  the  tinker's ;  for  all 
trades  and  professions  here  lie  in  a  most  delightful  confusion. 
The  druggist  sells  hats ;  the  shoe-maker  is  the  sole  book-sell- 
er, if  that  dignity  may  be  allowed  him  on  the  strength  of  the 
three  Welsh  Bibles  and  the  Guide  to  Caernarvon  which  adorn 
his  window ;  ink  is  sold  by  the  apothecary ;  the  grocer  sells 
ropes  (a  commodity  which,  I  fear,  I  shall  require  before  my 
residence  here  is  over)  and  tooth-brushes.  A  clothes-brush 
is  a  luxury  yet  unknown  to  Llanrwst.  As  to  books,  for  want 
of  any  other  English  literature,  I  intend  to  learn  "  Paradise 
Lost "  by  heart  at  odd  moments.  But  I  must  conclude.  Write 
to  me  often,  my  dear  mother,  and  all  of  you  at  home,  or  you 
may  have  to  answer  for  my  drowning  myself,  like  Gray's  bard, 
in  "  Old  Conway's  foaming  flood,"  which  is  most  conveniently 
near  for  so  poetical  an  exit. 

Ever  most  affectionately  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

Llanrwst,  August  31st,  1821. 

MY  DEAR  FATHER, — I  have  just  received  your  letter,  and 
can  not  but  feel  concerned  at  the  tone  of  it.  I  do  not  think 
it  quite  fair  to  attack  me  for  filling  my  letters  with  remarks 
on  the  king's  Irish  expedition.  It  has  been  the  great  event 
of  this  part  of  the  world.  I  was  at  Bangor  when  he  sailed. 
His  bows,  and  the  Marquis  of  Anglesea's  fete,  were  the  uni- 
versal subjects  of  conversation;  and  some  remarks  on  the 
business  were  as  natural  from  me  as  accounts  of  the  corona- 
tion from  you  in  London.  In  truth,  I  have  little  else  to  say. 
I  see  nothing  that  connects  me  with  the  world  except  the 
newspapers.  I  get  up,  breakfast,  read,  play  at  quoits,  and  go 
to  bed.  This  is  the  history  of  my  life.  It  will  do  for  every 
day  of  the  last  fortnight. 

As  to  the  king,  I  spoke  of  the  business,  not  at  all  as  a  polit- 


1818-'24.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  105 

ical,  but  as  a  moral,  question,  as  a  point  of  correct  feeling  and 

of  private  decency.     If  Lord were  to  issue  tickets  for  a 

gala  ball  immediately  after  receiving  intelligence  of  the  sud- 
den death  of  his  divorced  wife,  I  should  say  the  same.  I  pre- 
tend to  no  great  insight  into  party  politics ;  but  the  question 
whether  it  is  proper  for  any  man  to  mingle  in  festivities  while 
his  wife's  body  lies  unburied  is  one,  I  confess,  which  I  thought 
myself  competent  to  decide.  But  I  am  not  anxious  about  the 
fate  of  my  remarks,  which  I  have  quite  forgotten,  and  which, 
I  dare  say,  were  very  foolish.  To  me  it  is  of  little  importance 
whether  the  king's  conduct  were  right  or  wrong ;  but  it  is  of 
great  importance  that  those  whom  I  love  should  not  think  me 
a  precipitate,  silly,  shallow  sciolist  in  politics,  and  suppose  that 
every  frivolous  word  that  falls  from  my  pen  is  a  dogma  which 
I  mean  to  advance  as  indisputable ;  and  all  this  only  because  I 
write  to  them  without  reserve ;  only  because  I  love  them  well 
enough  to  trust  them  with  every  idea  which  suggests  itself  to 
me.  In  fact,  I  believe  that  I  am  not  more  precipitate  or  pre- 
sumptuous than  other  people,  but  only  more  open.  You  can 
not  be  more  fully  convinced  than  I  am  how  contracted  my 
means  are  of  forming  a  judgment.  If  I  chose  to  weigh  every 
word  that  I  uttered  or  wrote  to  you,  and,  whenever  I  alluded 
to  politics,  were  to  labor  and  qualify  my  expressions  as  if  I 
were  drawing  up  a  state  paper,  my  letters  might  be  a  great 
deal  wiser,  but  would  not  be  such  letters  as  I  should  wish  to 
receive  from  those  whom  I  loved.  Perfect  love,  we  are  told, 
casteth  out  fear.  If  I  say,  as  I  know  I  do,  a  thousand  wild 
and  inaccurate  things,  and  employ  exaggerated  expressions 
about  persons  or  events  in  writing  to  you  or  to  my  mother,  it 
is  not,  I  believe,  that  I  want  power  to  systematize  my  ideas  or 
to  measure  my  expressions,  but  because  I  have  no  objection  to 
letting  you  see  my  mind  in  deshabille.  I  have  a  court  dress 
for  days  of  ceremony  and  people  of  ceremony,  nevertheless. 
But  I  would  not  willingly  be  frightened  into  wearing  it  with 
you ;  and  I  hope  you  do  not  wish  me  to  do  so. 

Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

To  hoax  a  newspaper  has,  time  out  of  mind,  been  the  special 


106  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.IL 

ambition  of  under-graduate  wit.  In  the  course  of  1821  Mac- 
aulay  sent  to  the  Morning  Post  a  burlesque  copy  of  verses, 
entitled  "  Tears  of  Sensibility."  The  editor  fell  an  easy  vic- 
tim, but  unfortunately  did  not  fall  alone. 

No  pearl  of  ocean  is  so  sweet 

As  that  in  my  Zuleika's  eye. 
No  earthly  jewel  can  compete 

With  tears  of  sensibility. 

Like  light  phosphoric  on  the  billow, 

Or  hermit  ray  of  evening  sky, 
Like  ripplings  round  a  weeping  willow 

Are  tears  of  sensibility. 

Like  drops  of  iris-colored  fountains 

By  which  Endymion  loved  to  lie, 
Like  dew-gem&  on  untrodden  mountains 

Are  tears  of  sensibility. 

While  Zephyr  broods  o'er  moonlight  rill 

The  flowerets  droop  as  if  to  die, 
And  from  their  chaliced  cups  distill 

The  tears  of  sensibility. 

The  heart  obdurate  never  felt 

One  link  of  Nature's  magic  tie, 
If  ne'er  it  knew  the  bliss  to  melt 

In  tears  of  sensibility. 

The  generous  and  the  gentle  heart 

Is  like  that  balmy  Indian  tree 
Which  scatters  from  the  wounded  part 

The  tears  of  sensibility. 

Then,  oh !  ye  fair,  if  Pity's  ray 

E'er  taught  your  snowy  breasts  to  sigh, 

Shed  o'er  my  contemplative  lay 
The  tears  of  sensibility. 

November  2d,  1821. 

MY  DEAK  MOTHER, — I  possess  some  of  the  irritability  of  a 
poet,  and  it  has  been  a  good  deal  awakened  by  your  criticisms. 
I  could  not  have  imagined  that  it  would  have  been  necessary 


1818-'24.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  107 

for  me  to  have  said  that  the  execrable  trash  entitled  "  Tears 
of  Sensibility"  was  merely  a  burlesque  on  the  style  of  the 
magazine  verses  of  the  day.  I  could  not  suppose  that  you 
could  have  suspected  me  of  seriously  composing  such  a  far- 
rago of  false  metaphor  and  unmeaning  epithet.  It  was  meant 
solely  for  a  caricature  on  the  style  of  the  poetasters  of  news- 
papers and  journals ;  and  (though  I  say  it  who  should  not 
say  it)  has  excited  more  attention  and  received  more  praise 
at  Cambridge  than  it  deserved.  If  you  have  it,  read  it  over 
again,  and  do  me  the  justice  to  believe  that  such  a  compound 
of  jargon,  nonsense,  false  images,  and  exaggerated  sentiment 
is  not  the  product  of  my  serious  labors.  I  sent  it  to  the 
Morning  Post,  because  that  paper  is  the  ordinary  receptacle 
of  trash  of  the  description  which  I  intended  to  ridicule,  and 
its  admission  therefore  pointed  the  jest.  I  see,  however,  that 
for  the  future  I  must  mark  more  distinctly  when  I  intend  to 
be  ironical.  Your  affectionate  son,  T.  B.  M. 

Cambridge,  July  26th,  1822. 

MY  DEAR  FATHEK, — I  have  been  engaged  to  take  two  pupils 
for  nine  months  of  the  next  year.  They  are  brothers  whose 
father,  a  Mr.  Stoddart,  resides  at  Cambridge.  I  am  to  give 
them  an  hour  a  day  each,  and  am  to  receive  a  hundred  guin- 
eas. It  gives  me  great  pleasure  to  be  able  even  in  this  degree 
to  relieve  you  from  the  burden  of  my  expenses  here.  I  begin 
my  tutorial  labors  to-morrow.  My  pupils  are  young,  one  be- 
ing fifteen  and  the  other  thirteen  years  old  ;  but  I  hear  excel- 
lent accounts  of  their  proficiency,  and  I  intend  to  do  my  ut- 
most for  them.  Farewell.  T.  B.  M. 

A  few  days  later  on  he  writes :  "  I  do  not  dislike  teaching ; 
whether  it  is  that  I  am  more  patient  than  I  had  imagined,  or 
that  I  have  not  yet  had  time  to  grow  tired  of  my  new  voca- 
tion. I  find,  also,  what  at  first  sight  may  appear  paradoxical, 
that  I  read  much  more  in  consequence,  and  that  the  regular- 
ity of  habits  necessarily  produced  by  a  periodical  employment 
which  can  not  be  procrastinated  fully  compensates  for  the  loss 
of  the  time  which  is  consumed  in  tuition." 


108  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  n. 

Trinity  College,  Cambridge,  October  1st,  1824. 

MY  DEAR  FATHER, — I  was  elected  Fellow  this  morning, 
shall  be  sworn  in  to-morrow,  and  hope  to  leave  Cambridge  on 
Tuesday  for  Rothley  Temple.  The  examiners  speak  highly 
of  the  manner  in  which  I  acquitted  myself,  and  I  have  reason 
to  believe  that  I  stood  first  of  the  candidates. 

I  need  not  say  how  much  I  am  delighted  by  my  success,  and 
how  much  I  enjoy  the  thought  of  the  pleasure  which  it  will 
afford  to  you,  my  mother,  and  our  other  friends.  Till  I  be- 
come a  master  of  arts  next  July,  the  pecuniary  emolument 
which  I  shall  derive  will  not  be  great.  For  seven  years  from 
that  time  it  will  make  me  almost  an  independent  man. 

Maiden  is  elected.  You  will  take  little  interest  in  the  rest 
of  our  Cambridge  successes  and  disappointments. 

Yours  most  affectionately,  T.  B.  M. 


1824-'30.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  109 


CHAPTER  in. 

1824-1830. 

Macanlay  is  Called  to  the  Bar. — Does  not  Make  it  a  Serious  Profession. — 
Speech  before  the  Antislavery  Society. — Knight's  Quarterly  Magazine.— 
The  Edinburgh  Eeview  and  the  "  Essay  on  Milton." — Macaulay's  Personal 
Appearance  and  Mode  of  Existence. — His  Defects  and  Virtues,  Likings 
and  Antipathies. — Croker. — Sadler. — Zachary  Macaulay's  Circumstances. 
— Description  of  the  Family  Habits  of  Life  in  Great  Ormond  Street. — 
Macaulay's  Sisters. — Lady  Trevelyan. — "  The  Judicious  Poet." — Macau- 
lay's  Humor  in  Conversation. — His  Articles  in  the  Review. — His  Attacks 
on  the  Utilitarians  and  on  Southey. — Blackwootfa  Magazine. — Macaulay 
is  made  Commissioner  of  Bankruptcy. — Enters  Parliament. — Letters 
from  Circuit  and  Edinburgh. 

MACAULAY  was  called  to  the  bar  in  1826,  and  joined  the 
Northern  Circuit  at  Leeds.  On  the  evening  that  he  first  ap- 
peared at  mess,  when  the  company  were  retiring  for  the  night, 
he  was  observed  to  be  carefully  picking  out  the  longest  candle. 
An  old  king's  counsel,  who  noticed  that  he  had  a  volume  un- 
der his  arm,  remonstrated  with  him  on  the  danger  of  reading 
in  bed,  upon  which  he  rejoined  with  immense  rapidity  of  ut- 
terance :  "  I  always  read  in  bed  at  home ;  and  if  I  am  not  afraid 
of  committing  parricide  and  matricide  and  fratricide,  I  can 
hardly  be  expected  to  pay  any  special  regard  to  the  lives  of 
the  bagmen  of  Leeds."  And,  so  saying,  he  left  his  hearers 
staring  at  one  another,  and  marched  off  to  his  room,  little 
knowing  that  before  many  years  were  out  he  would  have  oc- 
casion to  speak  much  more  respectfully  of  the  Leeds  bagmen. 

Under  its  social  aspect,  Macaulay  heartily  enjoyed  his  legal 
career.  He  made  an  admirable  literary  use  of  the  Saturnalia 
which  the  Northern  Circuit  calls  by  the  name  of  "Grand 
Night,"  when  personalities  of  the  most  pronounced  description 
are  welcomed  by  all  except  the  object  of  them,  and  forgiven 


110  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  m. 

even  by  him.  His  hand  may  be  recognized  in  a  macaronic 
poem,  written  in  Greek  and  English,  describing  the  feast  at 
which  Alexander  murdered  Clitus.  The  death  of  the  victim 
is  treated  with  an  exuberance  of  fantastic  drollery;  and  a 
song,  put  into  the  mouth  of  Nearchus,  the  admiral  of  the 
Macedonian  fleet,  and  beginning  with  the  lines, 

When  as  first  I  did  come  back  from  plowing  the  salt  water, 
They  paid  me  off  at  Salamis,  three  minae  and  a  quarter, 

is  highly  Aristophanic  in  every  sense  of  the  word. 

He  did  not  seriously  look  to  the  bar  as  a  profession.  ~No 
persuasion  would  induce  him  to  return  to  his  chambers  in  the 
evening,  according  to  the  practice  then  in  vogue.  After  the 
first  year  or  two  of  the  period  during  which  he  called  him- 
self a  barrister  he  gave  up  even  the  pretense  of  reading  law, 
and  spent  many  more  hours  under  the  gallery  of  the  House 
of  Commons  than  in  all  the  courts  together.  The  person  who 
knew  him  best  said  of  him :  "  Throughout  life  he  never  real- 
ly applied  himself  to  any  pursuit  that  was  against  the  grain." 
Nothing  is  more  characteristic  of  the  man  than  the  contrast 
between  his  unconquerable  aversion  to  the  science  of  juris- 
prudence at  the  time  when  he  was  ostensibly  preparing  him- 
self to  be  an  advocate,  and  the  zest  with  which,  on  his  voyage 
to  India,  he  mastered  that  science,  in  principle  and  detail,  as 
soon  as  his  imagination  was  fired  by  the  prospect  of  the  re- 
sponsibilities of  a  lawgiver. 

He  got  no  business  worth  mention,  either  in  London  or  on 
circuit.  Zachary  Macaulay,  who  was  not  a  man  of  the  world, 
did  what  he  could  to  make  interest  with  the  attorneys,  and, 
as  a  last  resource,  proposed  to  his  son  to  take  a  brief  in  a  suit 
which  he  himself  had  instituted  against  the  journal  that  had 
so  grossly  libeled  him.  "  I  am  rather  glad,"  writes  Macaulay 
from  York  in  March,  1827,  "  that  I  was  not  in  London,  if  your 
advisers  thought  it  right  that  I  should  have  appeared  as  your 
counsel.  Whether  it  be  contrary  to  professional  etiquette  I  do 
not  know ;  but  I  am  sure  that  it  would  be  shocking  to  public 
feeling,  and  particularly  imprudent  against  adversaries  whose 
main  strength  lies  in  detecting  and  exposing  indecorum  or  ec- 


1824-'30.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  HI 

centricity.  It  would  have  been  difficult  to  avoid  a  quarrel 
with  Sugden,  with  Wetherell,  and  with  old  Lord  Eldon  him- 
self.  Then  the  John  Bull  would  have  been  upon  us  with 
every  advantage.  The  personal  part  of  the  consideration  it 
would  have  been  my  duty,  and  my  pleasure  and  pride  also,  to 
overlook,  but  your  interests  must  have  suffered." 

Meanwhile  he  was  busy  enough  in  fields  better  adapted 
than  the  law  to  his  talents  and  his  temperament.  He  took  a 
part  in  the  meeting  of  the  Antislavery  Society  held  at  Free- 
masons' Tavern,  on  the  25th  of  June,  1824,  with  the  Duke  of 
Gloucester  in  the  chair.  The  Edinburgh  Review  described 
his  speech  as  "  a  display  of  eloquence  so  signal  for  rare  and 
matured  excellence,  that  the  most  practiced  orator  may  well 
admire  how  it  should  have  come  from  one  who  then  for  the 
first  time  addressed  a  public  assembly." 

Those  who  know  what  the  annual  meeting  of  a  well-organ- 
ized and  disciplined  association  is  may  imagine  the  whirlwind 
of  cheers  which  greeted  the  declaration  that  the  hour  was  at 
hand  when  "  the  peasant  of  the  Antilles  will  no  longer  crawl 
in  listless  and  trembling  dejection  round  a  plantation  from 
whose  fruits  he  must  derive  no  advantage,  and  a  hut  whose 
door  yields  him  no  protection ;  but,  when  his  cheerful  and 
voluntary  labor  is  performed,  he  will  return  with  the  firm 
step  and  erect  brow  of  a  British  citizen  from  the  field  which 
is  his  freehold  to  the  cottage  which  is  his  castle." 

Surer  promise  of  aptitude  for  political  debate  was  afforded 
by  the  skill  with  which  the  young  speaker  turned  to  account 
the  recent  trial  for  sedition,  and  death  in  prison,  of  Smith,  the 
Demerara  missionary :  an  event  which  was  fatal  to  slavery  in 
the  West  Indies  in  the  same  degree  as  the  execution  of  John 
Brown  was  its  death-blow  in  the  United  States.  "  When  this 
country  has  been  endangered,  either  by  arbitrary  power  or 
popular  delusion,  truth  has  still  possessed  one  irresistible  or- 
gan, and  justice  one  inviolable  tribunal.  That  organ  has  been 
an  English  press,  and  that  tribunal  an  English  jury.  But  in 
those  wretched  islands  we  see  a  press  more  hostile  to  truth 
than  any  censor,  and  juries  more  insensible  to  justice  than  any 
Star  Chamber.  In  those  islands  alone  is  exemplified  the  full 


112  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OP  [CHAP.  in. 

meaning  of  the  most  tremendous  of  the  cnrses  denounced 
against  the  apostate  Hebrews, '  I  will  curse  your  blessings.' 
We  can  prove  this  assertion  out  of  the  mouth  of  our  adversa- 
ries. We  remember,  and  God  Almighty  forbid  that  we  ever 
should  forget,  how,  at  the  trial  of  Mr.  Smith,  hatred  regulated 
every  proceeding,  was-  substituted  for  every  law,  and  allowed 
its  victim  no  sanctuary  in  the  house  of  mourning,  no  refuge 
in  the  very  grave.  Against  the  members  of  that  court-mar- 
tial the  country  has  pronounced  its  verdict.  But  what  is  the 
line  of  defense  taken  by  its  advocates  ?  It  has  been  solemnly 
and  repeatedly  declared  in  the  House  of  Commons  that  a  jury 
composed  of  planters  would  have  acted  with  far  more  injus- 
tice than  did  this  court :  this  court,  which  has  never  found  a 
single  lawyer  to  stake  his  professional  character  on  the  legal- 
ity of  its  proceedings.  The  argument  is  this.  Things  have 
doubtless  been  done  which  should  not  have  been  done.  The 
court-martial  sat  without  a  jurisdiction ;  it  convicted  without 
evidence;  it  condemned  to  a  punishment  not  warranted  by 
law.  But  we  must  make  allowances.  We  must  judge  by 
comparison.  'Mr.  Smith  ought  to  have  been  very  thankful 
that  it  was  no  worse.  Only  think  what  would  have  been  his 
fate  if  he  had  been  tried  by  a  jury  of  planters !'  Sir,  I  have 
always  lived  under  the  protection  of  the  British  laws,  and 
therefore  I  am  unable  to  imagine  what  could  be  worse :  but, 
though  I  have  small  knowledge,  I  have  a  large  faith :  I  by  no 
means  presume  to  set  any  limits  to  the  possible  injustice  of 
a  West  Indian  judicature.  And  since  the  colonists  maintain 
that  a  jury  composed  of  their  own  body  not  only  possibly 
might,  but  necessarily  must,  have  acted  with  more  iniquity 
than  this  court-martial,  I  certainly  shall  not  dispute  the  asser- 
tion, though  I  am  utterly  unable  to  conceive  the  mode." 

That  was  probably  the  happiest  half-hour  of  Zachary  Mac- 
aulay's  life.  "  My  friend,"  said  Wilberf orce,  when  his  turn 
came  to  speak, "  would  doubtless  willingly  bear  with  all  the 
base  falsehoods,  all  the  vile  calumnies,  all  the  detestable  arti- 
fices which  have  been  aimed  against  him,  to  render  him  the 
martyr  and  victim  of  our  cause,  for  the  gratification  he  has 
this  day  enjoyed  in  hearing  one  so  dear  to  him  plead  such  a 


1824-'30.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  113 

cause  in  such  a  manner."  Keen  as  his  pleasure  was,  he  took 
it  in  his  own  sad  way.  From  the  first  moment  to  the  last, 
he  never  moved  a  muscle  of  his  countenance,  but  sat  with 
his  eyes  fixed  on  a  piece,  of  paper,  on  which  he  seemed  to  be 
writing  with  a  pencil.  While  talking  with  his  son  that  even- 
ing, he  referred  to  what  had  passed  only  to  remark  that  it  was 
ungraceful  in  so  young  a  man  to  speak  with  folded  arms  in 
the  presence  of  royalty. 

In  1823  the  leading  members  of  the  cleverest  set  of  boys 
who  ever  were  together  at  a  public  school  found  themselves 
collected  once  more  at  Cambridge.  Of  the  former  staff  of  the 
Etonian,  Praed,  Moultrie,  Derwent  Coleridge,  and,  among  oth- 
ers, Mr.  Edmond  Beales,  so  well  known  to  our  generation  as 
an  ardent  politician,  were  now  in  residence  at  King's  or  Trin- 
ity. Mr.  Charles  Knight,  too  enterprising  a  publisher  to  let 
such  a  quantity  of  youthful  talent  run  to  waste,  started  a  pe- 
riodical, which  was  largely  supported  by  under-graduates  and 
bachelors  of  arts,  among  whom  the  veterans  of  the  Eton  press 
formed  a  brilliant,  and,  as  he  vainly  hoped,  a  reliable  nucleus 
of  contributors. 

Knight's  Quarterly  Magazine  is  full  of  Macaulay,  and  of 
Macaulay  in  the  attractive  shape  which  a  great  author  wears 
while  he  is  still  writing  to  please  no  one  but  himself.  He  un- 
fortunately did  not  at  all  please  his  father.  In  the  first  num- 
ber, besides  a  great  deal  of  his  that  is  still  worth  reading,  there 
were  printed,  under  his  adopted  signature  of  Tristram  Merton, 
two  little  poems,  the  nature  of  which  may  be  guessed  from 
Praed's  editorial  comments.  "  Tristram  Merton,  I  have  a 
strong  curiosity  to  know  who  Rosamond  is.  But  you  will 
not  tell  me ;  and,  after  all,  as  far  as  your  verses  are  concerned, 
the  surname  is  nowise  germane  to  the  matter.  As  poor  Sher- 
idan said,  it  is  too  formal  to  be  registered  in  love's  calendar." 
And  again :  "  Tristram,  I  hope  Rosamond  and  your  Fair  Girl 
of  France  will  not  pull  caps ;  but  I  can  not  forbear  the  temp- 
tation of  introducing  your  Roxana  and  Statira  to  an  admiring 
public."  The  verses  were  such  as  any  man  would  willingly 
look  back  to  having  written  at  two-and-twenty ;  but  their  ap- 
pearance occasioned  real  misery  to  Zachary  Macaulay,  who  in- 
'  YoL.L— 8 


LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  ra. 

deed  disapproved  of  the  whole  publication  from  beginning  to 
end,  with  the  exception  of  an  article  on  West  Indian  slavery 
which  his  son  had  inserted  with  the  most  filial  intention,  but 
which,  it  must  be  allowed,  was  not  quite  in  keeping  with  the 
general  character  of  the  magazine. 

July  9th,  1823. 

MY  DEAB  FATHER, — I  have  seen  the  two  last  letters  which 
you  have  sent  to  my  mother.  They  have  given  me  deep  pain ; 
but  pain  without  remorse.  I  am  conscious  of  no  misconduct, 
and  whatever  uneasiness  I  may  feel  arises  solely  from  sympa- 
thy for  your  distress. 

You  seem  to  imagine  that  the  book  is  edited,  or  principal- 
ly written,  by  friends  of  mine.  I  thought  that  you  had  been 
aware  that  the  work  is  conducted  in  London,  and  that  my 
friends  and  myself  are  merely  contributors,  and  form  a  very 
small  proportion  of  the  contributors.  The  manners  of  almost 
all  of  my  acquaintances  are  so  utterly  alien  from  coarseness, 
and  their  morals  from  libertinism,  that  I  feel  assured  that  no 
objection  of  that  nature  can  exist  to  their  writings.  As  to  my 
own  contributions,  I  can  only  say  that  the  Roman  story  was 
read  to  my  mother  before  it  was  published,  and  would  have 
been  read  to  you  if  you  had  happened  to  be  at  home.  Not 
one  syllable  of  censure  was  uttered. 

The  essay  on  the  "  Royal  Society  of  Literature "  was  read 
to  you.  I  made  the  alterations  which  I  conceived  that  you 
desired,  and  submitted  them  afterward  to  my  mother.  As  to 
the  poetry  which  you  parallel  with  Little's,  if  any  thing  vul- 
gar or  licentious  has  been  written  by  myself,  I  am  willing  to 
bear  the  consequences.  If  any  thing  of  that  cast  has  been 
written  by  my  friends,  I  allow  that  a  certain  degree  of  blame 
attaches  to  me  for  having  chosen  them  at  least  indiscreetly. 
If,  however,  a  book -seller  of  whom  we  knew  nothing  has 
coupled  improper  productions  with  ours  in  a  work  over  which 
we  had  no  control,  I  can  not  plead  guilty  to  any  thing  more 
than  misfortune :  a  misfortune  in  which  some  of  the  most  rig- 

V  ^ 

idly  moral  and  religious  men  of  my  acquaintance  have  partici- 
pated in  the  present  instance. 

I  am  pleading  at  random  for  a  book  which  I  never  saw.     I 


1824-'30.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  115 

am  defending  the  works  of  people  most  of  whose  names  I 
never  heard.  I  am  therefore  writing  under  great  disadvan- 
tages. I  write  also  in  great  haste.  I  am  unable  even  to  read 
over  what  I  have  written.  Affectionately  yours, 

T.  B.  M. 

Moved  by  the  father's  evident  unhappiness,  the  son  prom- 
ised never  to  write  again  for  the  obnoxious  periodical.  The 
second  number  was  so  dull  and  decorous  that  Zachary  Macau- 
lay,  who  felt  that,  if  the  magazine  went  on  through  successive 
quarters  reforming  its  tone  in  the  same  proportion,  it  would 
soon  be  on  a  level  of  virtue  with  the  Christian  Observer,  with- 
drew his  objection ;  and  the  young  man  wrote  regularly  till 
the  short  life  of  the  undertaking  ended  in  something  very  like 
a  quarrel  between  the  publisher  and  his  contributors.  It  is 
not  the  province  of  biography  to  dilate  upon  works  which  are 
already  before  the  world,  and  the  results  of  Macaulay's  liter- 
ary labor  during  the  years  1823  and  182-i  have  been,  perhaps, 
only  too  freely  reproduced  in  the  volumes  which  contain  his 
miscellaneous  writings.  It  is,  however,  worthy  of  notice  that 
among  his  earlier  efforts  in  literature  his  own  decided  favorite 
was  "  the  conversation  between  Mr.  Abraham  Cowley  and  Mr. 
John  Milton  touching  the  great  civil  war."  But  an  author, 
who  is  exempt  from  vanity,  is  inclined  to  rate  his  own  works 
rather  according  as  they  are  free  from  faults  than  as  they 
abound  in  beauties :  and  Macaulay's  readers  will  very  gener- 
ally give  the  preference  to  two  fragmentary  sketches  of  Ro- 
man and  Athenian  society  which  sparkle  with  life,  and  humor, 
and  a  masculine,  vigorous  fancy  that  had  not  yet  learned  to 
obey  the  rein.  Their  crude  but  genuine  merit  suggests  a  re- 
gret that  he  did  not  in  after-days  enrich  the  Edinburgh  Re- 
view with  a  couple  of  articles  on  classical  subjects,  as  a  sample 
of  that  ripened  scholarship  which  produced  the  "  Prophecy  of 
Capys,"  and  the  episode  relating  to  the  Phalaris  controversy 
in  the  essay  on  "  Sir  "William  Temple." 

Eothley  Temple,  October  7th,  1824. 

MY  DEAK  FATHEK, — As  to  Knight's  magazine,  I  really  do 


116  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CIIAP.  in. 

not  think  that,  considering  the  circumstances  under  which  it 
is  conducted,  it  can  be  much  censured.  Every  magazine  must 
contain  a  certain  quantity  of  mere  ballast,  of  no  value  but  as 
it  occupies  space.  The  general  tone  and  spirit  of  the  work 
will  stand  a  comparison,  in  a  moral  point  of  view,  with  any 
periodical  publication  not  professedly  religious.  I  will  vent- 
ure to  say  that  nothing  has  appeared  in  it,  at  least  since  the 
first  number,  from  the  pen  of  any  of  my  friends,  which  can 
offend  the  most  fastidious.  Knight  is  absolutely  in  our  hands, 
and  most  desirous  to  gratify  us  all,  and  me  in  particular. 
"When  I  see  you  in  London  I  will  mention  to  you  a  piece  of 
secret  history  which  will  show  you  how  important  our  connec- 
tion with  this  work  may  possibly  become. 

Yours  affectionately,  T.  B.  M. 

The  "  piece  of  secret  history  "  above  referred  to  was  beyond 
a  doubt  the  commencement  of  Macaulay's  connection  with  the 
Edinburgh  jReview.  That  famous  periodical,  which  for  three- 
and-twenty-years  had  shared  in  and  promoted  the  rising  fort- 
unes of  the  Liberal  cause,  had  now  attained  its  height  —  a 
height  unequaled  before  or  since — of  political,  social,  and  lit- 
erary power.  To  have  the  entry  of  its  columns  was  to  com- 
mand the  most  direct  channel  for  the  spread  of  opinions,  and 
the  shortest  road  to  influence  and  celebrity.  But  already  the 
anxious  eye  of  the  master  seemed  to  discern  symptoms  of  de- 
cline. Jeffrey,  in  Lord  Cockburn's  phrase,  was  "growing  fe- 
verish about  new  writers."  In  January,  1825,  he  says,  in  a 
letter  to  a  friend  in  London :  "  Can  you  not  lay  your  hands  on 
some  clever  young  man  who  would  write  for  us  ?  The  origi- 
nal supporters  of  the  work  are  getting  old,  and  either  too  busy 
or  too  stupid,  and  here  the  young  men  are  mostly  Tories." 
Overtures  had  already  been  made  to  Macaulay,  and  that  same 
year  his  article  on  Milton  appeared  in  the  August  number. 

The  effect  on  the  author's  reputation  was  instantaneous. 
Like  Lord  Byron,  he  awoke  one  morning  and  found  himself 
famous.  The  beauties  of  the  work  were  such  as  all  men  could 
recognize,  and  its  very  faults  pleased.  The  redundance  of 
youthful  enthusiasm,  which  he  himself  unsparingly  condemns 


1824-'30.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  117 

in  the  preface  to  his  collected  essays,  seemed  graceful  enough 
in  the  eyes  of  others,  if  it  were  only  as  a  relief  from  the  per- 
verted ability  of  that  elaborate  libel  on  our  great  epic  poet 
which  goes  by  the  name  of  Dr.  Johnson's  "  Life  of  Milton." 
Murray  declared  that  it  would  be  worth  the  copyright  of 
"  Childe  Harold  "  to  have  Macaulay  on  the  staff  of  the  Quar- 
terly. The  family  breakfast-table  in  Bloomsbury  was  covered 
with,  cards  of  invitation  to  dinner  from  every  quarter  of  Lon- 
don, and  his  father  groaned  in  spirit  over  the  conviction  that 
thenceforward  the  law  would  be  less  to  him  than  ever.  A 
warm  admirer  of  Robert  Hall,  Macaulay  heard  with  pride  how 
the  great  preacher,  then  well-nigh  worn  out  writh  that  long 
disease,  his  life,  was  discovered  lying  on  the  floor,  employed 
in  learning,  by  aid  of  grammar  and  dictionary,  enough  Ital- 
ian to  enable  him  to  verify  the  parallel  between  Milton  and 
Dante.  But  the  compliment  that  of  all  others  came  most 
nearly  home — the  only  commendation  of  his  literary  talent 
which  even  in  the  innermost  domestic  circle  he  was  ever 
known  to  repeat — was  the  sentence  with  which  Jeffrey  ac- 
knowledged the  receipt  of  his  manuscript, "  The  more  I  think, 
the  less  I  can  conceive  where  you  picked  up  that  style." 

Macaulay 's  outward  man  was  never  better  described  than 
in  two  sentences  of  Praed's  Introduction  to  Knight's  Qua/rter- 
ly  Magazine.  "  There  came  up  a  short  manly  figure,  marvel- 
ously  upright,  with  a  bad  neckcloth,  and  one  hand  in  his  waist- 
coat-pocket. Of  regular  beauty  he  had  little  to  boast ;  but  in 
faces  where  there  is  an  expression  of  great  power,  or  of  great 
good-humor,  or  both,  you  do  not  regret  its  absence."  This 
picture,  in  which  every  touch  is  correct,  tells  all  that  there  is  to 
be  told.  He  had  a  massive  head,  and  features  of  a  powerful 
and  rugged  cast ;  but  so  constantly  lighted  up  by  every  joyful 
and  ennobling  emotion  that  it  mattered  little  if,  when  absolute- 
ly quiescent,  his  face  was  rather  homely  than  handsome.  While 
conversing  at  table,  no  one  thought  him  otherwise  than  good- 
looking  ;  but  when  he  rose,  he  was  seen  to  be  short  and  stout 
in  figure.  "  At  Holland  House,  the  other  day,"  writes  his  sis- 
ter Margaret,  in  September,  1831, "  Tom  met  Lady  Lyndhurst 
for  the  first  time.  She  said  to  him, '  Mr.  Macaulay,  you  are  so 


118  LIFE  AND  LETTEKS  OF  [CHAP.  in. 

different  to  what  I  expected.  I  thought  you  were  dark  and 
thin,  but  you  are  fair,  and,  really,  Mr.  Macaulay,  you  are  fat.' " 
He  at  all  times  sat  and  stood  straight,  full,  and  square ;  and 
in  this  respect  Woolner,  in  the  line  statue  at  Cambridge,  has 
missed  what  was  undoubtedly  the  most  marked  fact  in  his 
personal  appearance.  He  dressed  badly,  but  not  cheaply.  His 
clothes,  though  ill  put  on,  were  good,  and  his  wardrobe  was 
always  enormously  overstocked.  Later  in  life  he  indulged 
himself  in  an  apparently  inexhaustible  succession  of  handsome 
embroidered  waistcoats,  which  he  used  to  regard  with  much 
complacency.  He  was  unhandy  to  a  degree  quite  unexampled 
in  the  experience  of  all  who  knew  him.  When  in  the  open 
air,  he  wore  perfectly  new  dark  kid  gloves,  into  the  fingers  of 
which  he  never  succeeded  in  inserting  his  own  more  than  half- 
way. After  he  had  sailed  for  India,  there  were  found  in  his 
chambers  between  fifty  and  sixty  strops,  hacked  into  strips 
and  splinters,  and  razors  without  beginning  or  end.  About 
the  same  period  he  hurt  his  hand,  and  was  reduced  to  send 
for  a  barber.  After  the  operation,  he  asked  what  was  to  pay. 
"  Oh,  sir,"  said  the  man, "  whatever  you  usually  give  the  person 
who  shaves  you."  "  In  that  case,"  said  Macaulay,  "  I  should 
give  you  a  great  gash  on  each  cheek." 

During  an  epoch  when,  at  our  principal  seats  of  education, 
athletic  pursuits  are  regarded  as  a  leading  object  of  existence, 
rather  than  as  a  means  of  health  and  recreation,  it  requires 
some  boldness  to  confess  that  Macaulay  was  utterly  destitute 
of  bodily  accomplishments,  and  that  he  viewed  his  deficiencies 
with  supreme  indifference.  He  could  neither  swim,  nor  row, 
nor  drive',  nor  skate,  nor  shoot.  He  seldom  crossed  a  saddle, 
and  never  willingly.  When  in  attendance  at  Windsor,  as  a 
cabinet  minister,  he  was  informed  that  a  horse  was  at  his  dis- 
posal. "  If  her  majesty  wishes  to  see  me  ride,"  he  said,  "  she 
must  order  out  an  elephant."  The  only  exercise  in  which  he 
can  be  said  to  have  excelled  was  that  of  threading  crowded 
streets  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  a  book.  He  might  be  seen 
in  such  thoroughfares  as  Oxford  Street  and  Cheapside  walk- 
ing as  fast  as  other  people  walked,  and  reading  a  great  deal 
faster  than  any  body  else  could  read.  As  a  pedestrian  he 


1824-'30. 1  LORD  MACAULAY.  119 

was,  indeed,  above  the  average.  Till  he  had  passed  fifty,  he 
thought  nothing  of  going  on  foot  from  the  Albany  to  Clap- 
ham,  and  from  Clapham  on  to  Greenwich,  and,  while  still  in 
the  prime  of  life,  he  was  forever  on  his  feet  indoors  as  well  as 
out.  "  In  those  days,"  says  his  cousin,  Mrs.  Conybeare,  "  he 
walked  rapidly  up  and  down  a  room  as  he  talked.  I  remem- 
ber on  one  occasion,  when  he  was  making  a  call,  he  stopped 
short  in  his  walk  in  the  midst  of  a  declamation  on  some  sub- 
ject, and  said, '  You  have  a  brick  floor  here.'  The  hostess  con- 
fessed that  it  was  true,  though  she  hoped  that  it  had  been  dis- 
guised by  double  matting  and  a  thick  carpet.  He  said  that 
his  habit  of  always  walking  enabled  him  to  tell  accurately  the 
material  he  was  treading  on.' " 

His  faults  were  such  as  give  annoyance  to  those  who  dis- 
like a  man  rather  than  anxiety  to  those  who  love  him.  Ve- 
hemence, overconfidence,  the  inability  to  recognize  that  there 
are  two  sides  to  a  question  or  two  people  in  a  dialogue,  are 
defects  which  during  youth  are  perhaps  inseparable  from  gifts 
like  those  with  which  he  was  endowed.  Moultrie,  speaking 
of  his  under-graduate  days,  tells  us  that 

To  him 

There  was  no  pain  like  silence — po  constraint 
So  dull  as  unanimity.     He  breathed 
An  atmosphere  of  argument,  nor  shrunk 
From  making,  where  he  could  not  find,  excuse 
For  controversial  fight. 

At  Cambridge  he  would  say  of  himself  that  whenever  any 
body  enunciated  a  proposition  all  possible  answers  to  it  rushed 
into  his  mind  at  once,  and  it  was  said  of  him  by  others  that 
he  had  no  politics  except  the  opposite  of  those  held  by  the 
persons  with  whom  he  was  talking.  To  that  charge,  at  any 
rate,  he  did  not  long  continue  liable.  He  left  college  a  stanch 
and  vehement  Whig,  eager  to  maintain  against  all  comers  and 
at  any  moment  that  none  but  Whig  opinions  had  a  leg  to 
stand  upon.  His  cousin,  George  Babington,  a  rising  surgeon, 
with  whom  at  one  time  he  lived  in  the  closest  intimacy,  was 
always  ready  to  take  up  the  Tory  cudgels.  The  two  friends 
"  would  walk  up  and  down  the  room,  crossing  each  other  for 


120  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  m. 

hours,  shouting  one  another  down  with  a  continuous  simulta- 
neous storm  of  words,  until  George  at  length  yielded  to  argu- 
ments and  lungs  combined.  Never,  so  far  as  I  remember, 
was  there  any  loss  of  temper.  It  was  a  fair,  good-humored 
battle,  in  not  very  mannerly  lists."  . 

Even  as  a  very  young  man  nine  people  out  of  ten  liked 
nothing  better  than  to  listen  to  him :  which  was  fortunate ; 
because  in  his  early  days  he  had  scanty  respect  of  persons, 
either  as  regarded  the  choice  of  his  topics  or  the  quantity  of 
his  words.  But  with  his  excellent  temper,  and  entire  absence 
of  conceit,  he  soon  began  to  learn  consideration  for  others  in 
small  things  as  well  as  in  great.  By  the  time  he  was  fairly 
launched  in  London,  he  was  agreeable  in  company  as  well  as 
forcible  and  amusing.  Wilberforce  speaks  of  his  "  unruffled 
good  humor."  Sir  Robert  Inglis,  a  good  observer,  with  ample 
opportunity  of  forming  a  judgment,  pronounced  that  he  con- 
versed, and  did  not  dictate,  and  that  he  was  loud,  but  never 
overbearing.  As  far  back  as  the  year  1826,  Crabb  Eobinson 
gave  a  very  favorable  account  of  his  demeanor  in  society, 
which  deserves  credence  as  the  testimony  of  one  who  liked 
his  share  of  talk,  and  was  not  willing  to  be  put  in  the  back- 
ground for  any  body.  "  I  went  to  James  Stephen,  and  drove 
with  him  to  his  house  at  Hendon.  A  dinner-party.  I  had 
a  most  interesting  companion  in  young  Macaulay,  one  of  the 
most  promising  of  the  rising  generation  I  have  seen  for  a  long 
time.  He  has  a  good  face — not  the  delicate  features  of  a  man 
of  genius  and  sensibility,  but  the  strong  lines  and  well-knit 
limbs  of  a  man  sturdy  in  body  and  mind.  Very  eloquent  and 
cheerful.  Overflowing  with  words,  and  not  poor  in  thought. 
Liberal  in  opinion,  but  no  radical.  He  seems  a  correct  as  well 
as  a  full  man.  He  showed  a  minute  knowledge  of  subjects 
not  introduced  by  himself." 

So  loyal  and  sincere  was  Macaulay's  nature  that  he  was  un- 
willing to  live  upon  terms  of  even  *  apparent  intimacy  with 
people  whom  he  did  not  like,  or  could  not  esteem ;  and,  as 
far  as  civility  allowed,  he  avoided  their  advances,  and  especially 
their  hospitality.  He  did  not  choose,  he  said,  to  eat  salt  with  a 
man  for  whom  he  could  not  say  a  good  word  in  all  companies. 


1824-'30.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  121 

He  was  true  throughout  life  to  those  who  had  once  acquired 
his  regard  and  respect.  Moultrie  says  of  him : 

His  heart  was  pure  and  simple  as  a  child's 

Unbreathed  on  by  the  world  :  in  friendship  warm, 

Confiding,  generous,  constant ;  and,  though  now 

He  ranks  among  the  great  ones  of  the  earth, 

And  hath  achieved  such  glory  as  will  last 

To  future  generations,  he,  I  think, 

Would  sup  on  oysters  with  as  right  good-will 

In  this  poor  home  of  mine  as  e'er  he  did 

On  Petty  Cury's  classical  first-floor 

Some  twenty  years  ago. 

He  loved  to  place  his  purse,  his  influence,  and  his  talents  at 
the  disposal  of  a  friend ;  and  any  one  whom  he  called  by  that 
name  he  judged  with  indulgence,  and  trusted  with  a  faith  that 
would  endure  almost  any  strain.  If  his  confidence  proved 
to  have  been  egregiously  misplaced,  which  he  was  always  the 
last  to  see,  he  did  not  resort  to  remonstrance  or  recrimination. 
His  course  under  such  circumstances  he  described  in  a  couplet 
from  an  old  French  comedy  :* 

Le  bruit  est  pour  le  fat,  la  plainte  pour  le  sot ; 
L'honnSte  homme  troinpe"  s'eloigne  et  ne  dit  mot. 

He  was  never  known  to  take  part  in  any  family  quarrel,  or 
personal  broil  of  any  description  whatsoever.  His  conduct  in 
this  respect  was  the  result  of  self-discipline,  and  did  not  pro- 
ceed from  any  want  of  sensibility.  "  He  is  very  sensitive," 
said  his  sister  Margaret, "  and  remembers  long,  as  well  as  feels 
deeply,  any  thing  in  the  form  of  slight."  Indeed,  at  college 
his  friends  used  to  tell  him  that  his  leading  qualities  were 
"generosity  and  vindictiveness."  Courage  he  certainly  did 
not  lack.  During  the  years  when  his  spirit  was  high,  and  his 
pen  cut  deep,  and  when  the  habits  of  society  were  different 

*  La  Coquette  Corrige'e.  Come"die  par  Mr.  Delanone,  1756.  In  his  Jour- 
nal of  February  15th,  1851,  after  quoting  the  couplet,  Macaulay  adds : 
"Odd  that  two  lines  of  a  damned  play,  and,  it  should  seem,  a  justly 
damned  play,  should  have  lived  near  a  century,  and  have  become  pro- 
verbial." 


122  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  in. 

from  what  they  are  at  present,  more  than  one  adversary  dis- 
played symptoms  of  a  desire  to  meet  him  elsewhere  than  on 
paper.  On  these  occasions,  while  showing  consideration  for 
his  opponent,  he  evinced  a  quiet  but  very  decided  sense  of 
what  was  due  to  himself  which  commanded  the  respect  of  all 
who  were  implicated,  and  brought  difficulties  that  might  have 
been  grave  to  an  honorable  and  satisfactory  issue. 

He  reserved  his  pugnacity  for  quarrels  undertaken  on  pub- 
lic grounds  and  fought  out,  with  the  world  looking  on  as  um- 
pire. In  the  lists  of  criticism  and  of  debate  it  can  not  be  de- 
nied that,  as  a  young  man,  he  sometimes  deserved  the  praise 
which  Dr.  Johnson  pronounced  upon  a  good  hater.  He  had 
no  mercy  for  bad  writers,  and  notably  for  bad  poets,  unless 
they  were  in  want  of  money ;  in  which  case  he  became,  within 
his  means,  the  most  open-handed  of  patrons.  He  was  too  apt 
to  undervalue  both  the  heart  and  the  head  of  those  who  de- 
sired tp  maintain  the  old  system  of  civil  and  religious  exclu- 
sion, and  who  grudged  political  power  to  their  f ellow-country- 
men,  or  at  any  rate  to  those  of  their  fellow-countrymen  whom 
he  was  himself  prepared  to  enfranchise.  Independent,  frank, 
and  proud  almost  to  a  fault,  he  detested  the  whole  race  of 
jobbers  and  time-servers,  parasites  and  scandal-mongers,  led- 
captains,  led-authors,  and  led-orators.  Some  of  his  antipathies 
have  stamped  themselves  indelibly  upon  literary  history.  He 
attributed  to  the  Right  Honorable  John  Wilson  Croker,  Sec- 
retary to  the  Admiralty  during  the  twenty  years  preceding 
1830,  qualities  which  excited  his  disapprobation  beyond  con- 
trol, and  possibly  beyond  measure.  In  a  singularly  powerful 
letter,  written  as  late  as  1843,  he  recites  in  detail  certain  un- 
savory portions  of  that  gentleman's  private  life  which  were 
not  only  part  of  the  stock-gossip  of  every  bow-window  in  St. 
James's  Street,  but  which  had  been  brought  into  the  light  of 
day  in  the  course  either  of  Parliamentary  or  judicial  investi- 
gations. After  illustrating  these  transactions  with  evidence 
which  proved  that  he  did  not  take  up  an  antipathy  on  hearsay, 
Macaulay  comments  on  them  in  such  terms  as  clearly  indicate 
that  his  animosity  to  Croker  arose  from  incompatibility  of 
moral  sentiments,  and  not  of  political  opinions.  He  then  pro- 


1824-'30.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  123 

ceeds  to  remark  on  "  the  scandals  of  Croker's  literary  life ;" 
"  his  ferocious  insults  to  women,  to  Lady  Morgan,  Mrs.  Aus- 
tin, and  others ;"  his  twitting  Harriet  Martineau  with  deaf' 
ness ;  his  twitting  Madame  D'Arblay  with  concealing  her  age. 
"  I  might  add,"  he  says, "  a  hundred  other  charges.  These,  ob- 
serve, are  things  done  by  a  privy  councilor,  by  a  man  who  has 
a  pension  from  the  country  of  two  thousand  pounds  a  year, 
by  a  man  who  affects  to  be  a  champion  of  order  and  religion." 
Macaulay's  judgment  has  been  confirmed  by  the  public  voice, 
which,  rightly  or  wrongly,  identifies  Croker  with  the  character 
of  Rigby  in  Mr.  Disraeli's  "  Coningsby." 

Macaulay  was  the  more  formidable  as  an  opponent,  because 
he  could  be  angry  without  losing  his  command  of  the  situa- 
tion. His  first  onset  was  terrific ;  but  in  the  fiercest  excite- 
ment of  the  melee  he  knew  when  to  call  a  halt.  A  certain 
member  of  Parliament  named  Michael  Thomas  Sadler  had 
fallen  foul  of  Malthus,  and  very  foul,  indeed,  of  Macaulay, 
who  in  two  short  and  telling  articles*  took  revenge  enough 
for  both.  He  writes  on  this  subject  to  Mr.  Macvey  Napier, 
who,  toward  the  close  of  1829,  had  succeeded  Jeffrey  in  the 
editorship  of  the  Edinburgh  Review :  "  The  position  which 
we  have  now  taken  up  is  absolutely  impregnable ;  and  if  we 
were  to  quit  it,  though  we  might  win  a  more  splendid  victo- 
ry we  should  expose  ourselves  to  some  risk.  My  rule  in  con- 
troversy has  always  been  that  to  which  the  Lacedaemonians 
adhered  in  war :  never  to  break  the  ranks  for  the  purpose  of 
pursuing  a  beaten  enemy."  He  had,  indeed,  seldom  occasion 
to  strike  twice.  Where  he  set  his  mark,  there  was  no  need  of 
a  second  impression.  The  unduly  severe  fate  of  those  who 
crossed  his  path  during  the  years  when  his  blood  was  hot 
teaches  a  serious  lesson  on  the  responsibilities  of  genius. 
Croker,  and  Sadler,  and  poor  Robert  Montgomery,  and  the 


*  Macaulay  writes  to  Mr.  Napier  in  February,  1831 :  "  People  here  think 
that  I  have  answered  Sadler  completely.  Empson  tells  me  that  Malthus 
is  well  pleased,  which  is  a  good  sign.  As  to  Blackwood's  trash,  I  could  not 
get  through  it.  It  bore  the  same  relation  to  Sadler's  pamphlet  that  a  bad 
hash  bears  to  a  bad  joint." 


124:  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  in. 

other  less  eminent  objects  of  his  wrath,  appear  likely  to  en- 
joy just  so  much  notoriety,  and  of  such  a  nature,  as  he  has 
thought  fit  to  deal  out  to  them  in  his  pages ;  and  it  is  possi- 
ble that  even  Lord  Ellenborough  may  be  better  known  to  our 
grandchildren  by  Macaulay's  oration  on  the  gates  of  Somnauth 
than  by  the  noise  of  his  own  deeds,  or  the  echo  of  his  own 
eloquence. 

When  Macaulay  went  to  college,  he  was  justified  in  regard- 
ing himself  as  one  who  would  not  have  to  work  for  his  bread. 
His  father,  who  believed  himself  to  be  already  worth  a  hun- 
dred thousand  pounds,  had  statedly  declared  to  the  young 
man  his  intention  of  making  him,  in  a  modest  way,  an  eldest 
son ;  and  had  informed  him  that,  by  doing  his  duty  at  the 
university,  he  would  earn  the  privilege  of  shaping  his  career 
at  choice.  In  1818  the  family  removed  to  London,  and  set 
up  an  establishment  on  a  scale  suited  to  their  improved  cir- 
cumstances in  Cadogan  Place,  which,  in  every  thing  except 
proximity  to  Bond  Street,  was  then  hardly  less  rural  than 
Clapham.  But  the  prosperity  of  the  house  of  Macaulay  Bab- 
ington  was  short-lived.  The  senior  member  of  the  firm  gave 
his  whole  heart,  and  five-sixths  of  his  time,  to  objects  uncon- 
nected with  his  business;  and  he  had  selected  a  partner  who 
did  not  possess  the  qualities  necessary  to  compensate  for  his 
own  deficiencies.  In  1819,  the  first  indications  of  possible 
disaster  begin  to  show  themselves  in  the  letters  to  and  from 
Cambridge;  while  waiting  for  a  fellowship,  Macaulay  was 
glad  to  make  a  hundred  guineas  by  taking  pupils ;  and,  as  time 
went  on,  it  became  evident  that  he  was  to  be  an  eldest  son 
only  in  the  sense  that  throughout  the  coming  years  of  diffi- 
culty and  distress  his  brothers  and  sisters  would  depend  main- 
ly upon  him  for  comfort,  guidance,  and  support.  He  acknowl- 
edged the  claim  cheerfully,  lovingly,  and  indeed  almost  uncon- 
sciously. It  was  not  in  his  disposition  to  murmur  over  what 
was  inevitable,  or  to  plume  himself  upon  doing  what  was 
right.  He  quietly  took  up  the  burden  which  his  father  was 
unable  to  bear ;  and,  before  many  years  had  elapsed,  the  fort- 
unes of  all  for  whose  welfare  he  considered  himself  responsi- 
ble were  abundantly  assured.  In  the  course  of  the  efforts 


1824-'30.]  LOKD  MACAULAY.  125 

which  he  expended  on  the  accomplishment  of  this  result,  he 
unlearned  the  very  notion  of  framing  his  method  of  life  with 
a  view  to  his  own  pleasure ;  and  such  was  his  high  and  simple 
nature  that  it  may  well  be  doubted  whether  it  ever  crossed 
his  mind  that  to  live  wholly  for  others  was  a  sacrifice  at  'all. 

He  resided  with  his  father  in  Cadogan  Place,  and  accom- 
panied^ him  when,  under  the  pressure  of  pecuniary  circum- 
stances, he  removed  to  a  less  fashionable  quarter  of  the  town. 
In  1823  the  family  settled  in  50  Great  Ormond  Street,  which 
runs  east  and  west  for  some  three  hundred  yards  through  the 
region  bounded  by  the  British  Museum,  the  Foundling  Hos- 
pital, and  Gray's  Inn  Road.  It  was  a  large,  rambling  house, 
at  the  corner  of  Powis  Place,  and  was  said  to  have  been  the 
residence  of  Lord  Chancellor  Thurlow  at  the  time  when  the 
Great  Seal  was  stolen  from  his  custody.  It  now  forms  the 
east  wing  of  a  homeopathic  hospital.  Here  the  Macaulays  re- 
mained till  1831.  "  Those  were  to  me,"  says  Lady  Trevelyan, 
"years  of  intense  happiness.  There  might  be  money  trou- 
bles, but  they  did  not  touch  us.  Our  lives  were  passed  after 
a  fashion  which  would  seem,  indeed,  strange  to  the  present  gen- 
eration. My  father,  ever  more  and  more  engrossed  in  one  ob- 
ject, gradually  gave  up  all  society,  and  my  mother  never  could 
endure  it.  We  had  friends,  of  course,  with  whom  we  staid 
out  for  months  together,  and  we  dined  with  the  Wilberforces, 
the  Buxtons,  Sir  Robert  Inglis,  and  others ;  but  what  is  now 
meant  by  '  society '  was  utterly  unknown  to  us. 

"In  the  morning  there  was  some  pretense  of  work  and 
study.  In  the  afternoon  your  uncle  always  took  my  sister 
Margaret  and  myself  a  long  walk.  We  traversed  every  part  of 
the  City,  Islington,  Clerkenwell,  and  the  parks,  returning  just 
in  time  for  a  six-o'clock  dinner.  What  anecdotes  he  used  to 
pour  out  about  every  street,  and  square,  and  court,  and  alley ! 
There  are  many  places  I  never  pass  without  the  tender  grace 
of  a  day  that  is  dead  coming  back  to  me.  Then,  after  dinner, 
he  always  walked  up  and  down  the  drawing-room  between  us 
chatting  till  tea-time.  Our  noisy  mirth,  his  wretched  puns,  so 
many  a  minute,  so  many  an  hour !  Then  we  sung,  none  of 
us  having  any  voices,  and  he,  if  possible,  least  of  all ;  but  still 


126  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  ra. 

the  old  nursery  songs  were  set  to  music  and  chanted.  My  fa- 
ther, sitting  at  his  own  table,  used  to  look  up  occasionally,  and 
push  back  his  spectacles,  and,  I  dare  say,  wonder,  in  his  heart, 
how  we  could  so  waste  our  time.  After  tea  the  book  then  in 
reading  was  produced.  Your  uncle  very  seldom  read  aloud 
himself  of  an  evening,  but  walked  about  listening,  and  com- 
menting, and  drinking  water. 

"  The  Sundays  were  in  some  respects  trying  days  to  him. 
My  father's  habit  was  to  read  a  long  sermon  to  us  all  in  the 
afternoon,  and  again  after  evening  service  another  long  ser- 
mon was  read  at  prayer-time  to  the  servants.  Our  doors  were 
open  to  sons  of  relations  or  friends ;  and  cousins  who  were 
medical  students,  or  clerks  in  merchants'  houses,  came  in  reg- 
ularly to  partake  of  our  Sunday  dinner  and  sermons.  Sun- 
day walking,  for  walking's  sake,  was  never  allowed,  and  even 
going  to  a  distant  church  was  discouraged.  When  in  Cado- 
gan  Place,  we  always  crossed  the  Five  Fields,  where  Belgrave 
Square  now  stands,  to  hear  Dr.  Thorpe  at  the  Lock  Chapel, 
and  bring  him  home  to  dine  with  us.  From  Great  Ormond 
Street,  we  attended  St.  John's  Chapel  in  Bedford  Row,  then 
served  by  Daniel  Wilson,  afterward  Bishop  of  Calcutta.  He 
was  succeeded  in  1826  by  the  Rev.  Baptist  Noel.  Your  uncle 
generally  went  to  church  with  us  in  the  morning,  and  latter- 
ly formed  the  habit  of  walking  out  of  town,  alone  or  with  a 
friend,  in  the  after-part  of  the  day.  I  never  heard  that  my 
father  took  any  notice  of  this,  and,  indeed,  in  the  interior  of 
his  own  family,  he  never  attempted  in  the  smallest  degree  to 
check  his  son  in  his  mode  of  life  or  in  the  expression  of  his 
opinions. 

"  I  believe  that  breakfast  was  the  pleasantest  part  of  the 
day  to  my  father.  His  spirits  were  then  at  their  best,  and  he 
was  most  disposed  to  general  conversation.  He  delighted  in 
discussing  the  newspaper  with  his  son,  and  lingered  over  the 
table  long  after  the  meal  was  finished.  On  this  account  he 
felt  it  extremely  when,  in  the  year  1829,  your  uncle  went  to 
live  in  chambers,  and  often  said  to  my  mother  that  the  change 
had  taken  the  brightness  out  of  his  day.  Though  your  un- 
cle generally  dined  with  us,  yet  my  father  was  tired  by  the 


1824-'30.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  127 

evening,  so  that  the  breakfast  hour  was  a  grievous  loss  to  him, 
as  indeed  it  was  to  us  all.  Truly  he  was,  to  old  and  young 
alike,  the  sunshine  of  our  home ;  and  I  believe  that  no  one 
who  did  not  know  him  there  ever  knew  him  in  his  most  brill- 
iant, witty,  and  fertile  vein." 

That  home  was  never  more  cheerful  than  during  the 
eight  years  which  followed  the  close  of  Macaulay's  college 
life.  There  had  been  much  quiet  happiness  at  Clapham, 
and  much  in  Cadogan  Place ;  but  it  was  round  the  house  in 
Great  Ormond  Street  that  the  dearest  associations  gathered. 
More  than  forty  years  afterward,  when  Lady  Trevelyan 
was  dying,  she  had  herself  driven  to  the  spot,  as  the  last 
drive  she  ever  took,  and  sat  silent  in  her  carriage  for  many 
minutes  with  her  eyes  fixed  upon  those  well-known  walls. 

While  warmly  attached  to  all  his  nearest  relations,  Macau- 
lay  lived  in  the  closest  and  most  frequent  companionship  with 
his  sisters  Hannah  and  Margaret,  younger  than  himself  by  ten 
and  twelve  years  respectively.  His  affection  for  these  two, 
deep  and  enduring  as  it  was,  had  in  it  no  element  of  blindness 
or  infatuation.  Even  in  the  privacy  of  a  dairy,  or  the  confi- 
dence of  the  most  familiar  correspondence,  Macaulay,  when 
writing  about  those  whom  he  loved,  was  never  tempted  to 
indulge  in  fond  exaggeration  of  their  merits.  Margaret, 
as  will  be  seen  in  the  course  of  this  narrative,  died  young, 
leaving  a  memory  of  outward  graces,  and  sweet  and  noble 
mental  qualities,  which  is  treasured  by  all  among  whom  her 
short  existence  was  passed.  As  regards  the  other  sister,  there 
are  many  alive  who  knew  her  for  what  she  was;  and  for 
those  who  did  not  know  her,  if  this  book  proves  how  much 
of  her  brother's  heart  she  had,  and  how  well  it  was  worth 
having,  her  children  will  feel  that  they  have  repaid  their  debt 
even  to  her. 

Education  in  the  Macaulay  family  was  not  on  system.  Of 
what  are  ordinarily  called  accomplishments,  the  daughters  had 
but  few,  and  Hannah  fewest  of  any ;  but  ever  since  she  could 
remember  any  thing,  she  had  enjoyed  the  run  of  a  good  stand- 
ard library,  and  had  been  allowed  to  read  at  her  own  time  and 
according  to  her  own  fancy.  There  were  two'  traits  in  her 


128  LIFE  AND  LETTEES  OF  [CHAP.  m. 

nature  which  are  seldom  united  in  the  same  person :  a  vivid, 
practical  interest  in  the  realities  which  surrounded  her,  joined 
with  the  power  of  passing  at  will  into  a  world  of  literature 
and  romance,  in  which  she  found  herself  entirely  at  home. 
The  feeling  with  which  Macaulay  and  his  sister  regarded 
books  differed  from  that  of  other  people  in  kind  rather  than 
in  degree.  When  they  were  discoursing  together  about  a 
work  of  history  or  biography,  a  by  -  stander  would  have  sup- 
posed that  they  had  lived  in  the  times  of  which  the  author 
treated,  and  had  a  personal  acquaintance  with  every  human 
being  who  was  mentioned  in  his  pages.  Pepys,  Addison, 
Horace  Walpole,  Dr.  Johnson,  Madame  de  Genlis,  the  Due  de 
St.  Simon,  and  the  several  societies  in  which  those  worthies 
moved,  excited  in  their  minds  precisely  the  same  sort  of  con- 
cern, and  gave  matter  for  discussions  of  exactly  the  same  type 
as  most  people  bestow  upon  the  proceedings  of  their  own  con- 
temporaries. The  past  was  to  them  as  the  present,  and  the 
fictitious  as  the  actual.  The  older  novels,  which  had  been  the 
food  of  their  early  years,  had  become  part  of  themselves  to 
such  an  extent  that  in  speaking  to  each  other  they  frequently 
employed  sentences  from  dialogues  in  those  novels  to  express 
the  idea,  or  even  the  business,  of  the  moment.  On  matters  of 
the  street  or  of  the  household  they  would  use  the  very  lan- 
guage of  Mrs.  Elton  and  Mrs.  Bennet,  Mr.  Woodhouse,  Mr. 
Collins,  and  John  Thorpe,  and  the  other  inimitable  actors  on 
Jane  Austen's  unpretending  stage,  while  they  would  debate 
the  love  affairs  and  the  social  relations  of  their  own  circle  in 
a  series  of  quotations  from  "  Sir  Charles  Grandison"  or  "  Eve- 
lina." 

The  effect  was  at  times  nothing  less  than  bewildering. 
When  Lady  Trevelyan  married,  her  husband,  whose  reading 
had  lain  anywhere  rather  than  among  the  circulating  libraries, 
used  at  first  to  wonder  who  the  extraordinary  people  could  be 
with  whom  his  wife  and  his  brother-in-law  appeared  to  have 
lived.  This  style  of  thought  and  conversation  had  for  young 
minds  a  singular  and  a  not  unhealthy  fascination.  Lady 
Trevelyan's  children  were  brought  up  among  books  (to  use 
the  homely  'simile  of  an  American  author),  as  a  stable-boy 


1824-'30.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  129 

among  horses.  The  shelves  of  the  library,  instead  of  frown- 
ing on  us  as  we  played  and  talked,  seemed  alive  with  kindly 
and  familiar  faces.  But  death  came,  and  came  again,  and 
then  all  was  changed,  and  changed  as  in  an  instant.  There 
were  many  favorite  volumes  out  of  which  the  spirit  seemed  to 
vanish  at  once  and  forever.  We  endeavored  unsuccessfully 
to  revive  by  our  own  efforts  the  amusement  which  we  had 
been  taught  to  find  in  the  faded  flatteries  and  absurdities  that 
passed  between  Miss  Seward  and  her  admirers,  or  to  retrace 
for  ourselves  the  complications  of  female  jealousy  which  play- 
ed round  Cowper's  tea-table  at  Olney.  We  awoke  to  the  dis- 
covery that  the  charm  was  not  in  us,  nor  altogether  in  the 
books  themselves.  The  talisman  which  endowed  with  life 
and  meaning  all  that  it  touched  had  passed  away  from  among 
us,  leaving  recollections  which  are  our  most  cherished,  as  they 
must  ever  be  our  proudest,  possession. 

Macaulay  thought  it  probable  that  he  could  rewrite  "  Sir 
Charles  Grandison"  from  memory,  and  certainly  he  might 
have  done  so  with  his  sister's  help.  But  his  intimate  ac- 
quaintance with  a  work  was  no  proof  of  its  merit.  "  There 
was  a  certain  prolific  author,"  says  Lady  Trevelyan, "  named 
Mrs.  Meeke,  whose  romances  he  all  but  knew  by  heart; 
though  he  quite  agreed  in  my  criticism  that  they  were  one 
just  like  another,  turning  on  the  fortunes  of  some  young  man 
in  a  very  low  rank  of  life  who  eventually  proves  to  be  the  son 
of  a  duke.  Then  there  was  a  set  of  books  by  a  Mrs.  Kitty 
Cuthbertson,  most  silly,  though  readable,  productions,  the  nat- 
ure of  which  may  be  guessed  from  their  titles :  *  Santo  Sebas- 
tiano ;  or,  The  Young  Protector ;  '  The  Forest  of  Montalba- 
no ;'  '  The  Romance  of  the  Pyrenees ;'  and  'Adelaide ;  or,  The 
Countercharm.'  I  remember  how,  when  '  Santo  Sebastiano ' 
was  sold  by  auction  in  India,  he  and  Miss  Eden  bid  against 
each  other  till  he  secured  it  at  a  fabulous  price ;  and  I  possess 
it  still." 

As  an  indication  of  the  thoroughness  with  which  this  liter- 
ary treasure  had  been  studied,  there  appears  on  the  last  page 
an  elaborate  computation  of  the  number  of  fainting-fits  that 
occur  in  the  course  of  the  five  volumes. 

VOL.  I.— 9 


130  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP,  m. 

Jalia  de  Clifford 11 

Lady  Delamore 4 

Lady  Theodosia 4 

Lord  Glenbrook 2 

Lord  Delamore 2 

Lady  Enderfield 1 

Lord  Ashgrove 1 

Lord  St.  Orville 1 

Henry  Mildmay 1 

A  single  passage,  selected  for  no  other  reason  than  because 
it  is  the  shortest,  will  serve  as  a  specimen  of  these  catastro- 
phes: "One  of  the  sweetest  smiles  that  ever  animated  the 
face  of  mortal  now  diffused  itself  over  the  countenance  of 
Lord  St.  Orville,  as  he  fell  at  the  feet  of  Julia  in  a  death-like 
swoon." 

The  fun  that  went  on  in  Great  Ormond  Street  was  of  a 
jovial,  and  sometimes  uproarious,  description.  Even  when 
the  family  was  by  itself,  the  school  -  room  and  the  drawing- 
room  were  full  of  young  people;  and  friends  and  cousins 
flocked  in  numbers  to  a  resort  where  so  much  merriment  was 
perpetually  on  foot.  There  were  seasons  during  the  school 
holidays  when  the  house  overflowed  with  noise  and  frolic  from 
morning  to  night ;  and  Macaulay,  who  at  any  period  of  his  life 
could  literally  spend  whole  days  in  playing  with  children,  was 
master  of  the  innocent  revels.  Games  of  hide-and-seek,  that 
lasted  for  hours,  with  shouting,  and  the  blowing  of  horns  up 
and  down  the  stairs  and  through  every  room,  were  varied  by 
ballads,  which,  like  the  scalds  of  old,  he  composed  during  the 
act  of  recitation,  while  the  others  struck  in  with  the  chorus. 
He  had  no  notion  whatever  of  music,  but  an  inf allible  ear  for 
rhythm.  His  knack  of  improvisation  he  at  all  times  exercised 
freely.  The  verses  which  he  thus  produced,  and  which  he 
invariably  attributed  to  an  anonymous  author  whom  he  styled 
"  the  Judicious  Poet,"  were  exclusively  for  home  consump- 
tion. Some  of  these  effusions  illustrate  a  sentiment  in  his 
disposition  which  was  among  the  most  decided,  and  the  most 
frequently  and  loudly  expressed.  Macaulay  was  only  too  eas- 
ily bored,  and  those  whom  he  considered  fools  he  by  no  means 
suffered  gladly.  He  once  amused  his  sisters  by  pouring  out 


1824-'30.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  131 

whole  Iliads  of  extempore  doggerel  upon  the  head  of  an  un- 
fortunate country  squire  of  their  acquaintance  who  had  a  hab- 
it of  detaining  people  by  the  button,  and  who  was  especially 
addicted  to  the  society  of  the  higher  order  of  clergy. 

His  Grace  Archbishop  Manners  Sutton 
Could  not  keep  on  a  single  button. 
As  for  Eight  Reverend  John  of  Chester, 
His  waistcoats  open  at  the  breast  are. 
Our  friend*  has  filled  a  mighty  trunk 
With  trophies  torn  from  Doctor  Monk, 
And  he  has  really 'tattered  foully 
The  vestments  of  Archbishop  Howley. 
No  button  could  I  late  discern  on 
The  garments  of  Archbishop  Vernon, 
And  never  had  his  fingers  mercy 
Upon  the  garb  of  Bishop  Percy. 
The  buttons  fly  from  Bishop  Ryder 
Like  corks  that  spring  from  bottled  cider, 

and  so  on  throughout  the  entire  bench,  until,  after  a  good 
half-hour  of  hearty  and  spontaneous  nonsense,  the  girls  would 
go  laughing  back  to  their  Italian  and  their  drawing-boards. 

He  did  not  play  upon  words  as  a  habit,  nor  did  he  interlard 
his  talk  with  far-fetched  or  overstrained  witticisms.  His 
humor,  like  his  rhetoric,  was  full  of  force  and  substance,  and 
arose  naturally  from  the  complexion  of  the  conversation  or 
the  circumstance  of  the  moment.  But  when  alone  with  his 
sisters,  and,  in  after-years,  with  his  nieces,  he  was  fond  of  set- 
ting himself  deliberately  to  manufacture  conceits  resembling 
those  on  the  heroes  of  the  Trojan  war  which  have  been 
thought  worthy  of  publication  in  the  collected  works  of  Swift. 
When  walking  in  London  he  would  undertake  to  give  some 
droll  turn  to  the  name  of  every  shop-keeper  in  the  street,  and, 
when  traveling,  to  the  name  of  every  station  along  the  line. 
At  home  he  would  run  through  the  countries  of  Europe,  the 
States  of  the  Union,  the  chief  cities  of  our  Indian  Empire,  the 

*  The  name  of  this  gentleman  has  been  concealed,  as  not  being  suffi- 
ciently known  by  all  to  give  point,  but  well  enough  remembered  by  some 
to  give  pain. 


132  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.HL 

provinces  of  France,  the  prime  ministers  of  England,  or  the 
chief  writers  and  artists  of  any  given  century ;  striking  off 
puns,  admirable,  endurable,  and  execrable,  but  all  irresistibly 
laughable,  which  followed  each  other  in  showers  like  sparks 
from  flint.  Capping  verses  was  a  game  of  which  he  never 
tired.  "  In  the  spring  of  1829,"  says  his  cousin,  Mrs.  Cony- 
beare, "we  were  staying  in  Ormond  Street.  My  chief  rec- 
ollection of  your  uncle  during  that  visit  is  on  the  evenings 
when  we  capped  verses.  All  the  family  were  quick  at  it,  but 
his  astounding  memory  made  him  supereminent.  When  the 
time  came  for  him  to  be  off  to  bed  at  his  chambers,  he  would 
rush  out  of  the  room  after  uttering  some  long-sought  line,  and 
would  be  pursued  to  the  top  of  the  stairs  by  one  of  the  others 
who  had  contrived  to  recall  a  verse  which  served  the  purpose, 
in  order  that  he  might  not  leave  the  house  victorious;  but 
he,  with  the  hall-door  open  in  his  hand,  would  shriek  back  a 
crowning  effort,  and  go  off  triumphant." 

Nothing  of  all  this  can  be  traced  in  his  letters  before  the 
year  1830.  Up  to  that  period  he  corresponded  regularly  with 
no  one  but  his  father,  between  whom  and  himself  there  ex- 
isted a  strong  regard,  but  scanty  sympathy  or  similarity  of 
pursuits.  It  was  not  until  he  poured  out  his  mind  almost 
daily  to  those  who  approached  him  more  nearly  in  age  and  in 
tastes,  that  the  lighter  side  of  his  nature  began  to  display  itself 
on  paper.  Most  of  what  he  addressed  to  his  parents  between 
the  time  when  he  left  Cambridge  and  the  time  when  he  en- 
tered the  House  of  Commons  may  be  characterized  as  belong- 
ing to  the  type  of  duty-letters,  treating  of  politics,  legal  gos- 
sip, personal  adventures,  and  domestic  incidents,  with  some  ret- 
icence, and  little  warmth  or  ease  of  expression.  The  period- 
ical insertion  on  the  son's  part  of  anecdotes  and  observations 
bearing  upon  the  question  of  slavery  reminds  the  reader  of 
those  presents  of  tall  recruits  with  which  at  judiciously  chosen 
intervals  Frederic  the  Great  used  to  conciliate  his  terrible  fa- 
ther. As  between  the  Macaulays,  these  little  filial  attentions 
acquire  a  certain  gracefulness  from  the  fact  that,  in  the  cir- 
cumstances of  the  family,  they  could  be  prompted  by  no  oth-> 
er  motive  than  a  dutiful  and  disinterested  affection.  k  »-» 


1824-'30.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  133 

It  must  not  be  supposed — no  one  who  examines  the  dates 
of  his  successive  essays  will  for  a  moment  suppose — that  his 
attention  was  distracted  or  his  energy  dissipated  by  trifles. 
Besides  the  finished  study  of  Machiavelli,  and  the  masterly 
sketch  of  our  great  civil  troubles  known  as  the  article  on  "  Hal- 
lam's  Constitutional  History,"  he  produced  much  that  his  ma- 
ture judgment  would  willingly  have  allowed  to  die,  but  which 
had  plenty  of  life  in  it  when  it  first  appeared  between  the  blue 
and  yellow  covers.  His  most  formidable  enterprise  during 
the  five  earliest  years  of  his  connection  with  the  great  Review 
was  that  passage  of  arms  against  the  champions  of  the  Utili- 
tarian philosophy  in  which  he  touched  the  mighty  shields  of 
James  Mill  and  Jeremy  Bentham,  and  rode  slashing  to  right 
and  left  through  the  ranks  of  their  less  distinguished  follow- 
ers. Indeed,  while  he  sincerely  admired  the  chiefs  of  the 
school,  he  had  a  young  man's  prejudice  against  their  disciples, 
many  of  whom  he  regarded  as  "  persons  who,  having  read  lit- 
tle or  nothing,  are  delighted  to  be  rescued  from  the  sense  of 
their  own  inferiority  by  some  teacher  who  assures  them  that 
the  studies  which  they  have  neglected  are  of  no  value,  puts 
five  or  six  phrases  into  their  mouths,  lends  them  an  odd  num- 
ber of  the  Westminster  Review,  and  in  a  month  transforms 
them  into  philosophers."  It  must  be  allowed  that  there  was 
some  color  for  his  opinion.  The  Benthamite  training  may 
have  stimulated  the  finer  intellects  (and  they  were  not  few) 
which  came  within  its  influence ;  but  it  is  impossible  to  con- 
ceive any  thing  more  dreary  than  must  have  been  the  condi- 
tion of  a  shallow  mind,  with  a  native  predisposition  to  sciol- 
ism, after  its  owner  had  joined  a  society  "  composed  of  young 
men  agreeing  in  fundamental  principles,  acknowledging  Util- 
ity as  their  standard  in  ethics  and  politics,"  "  meeting  once  a 
fortnight  to  read  essays  and  discuss  questions  conformably  to 
the  premises  thus  agreed  on,"  and  "  expecting  the  regeneration 
of  mankind,  not  from  any  direct  action  on  the  sentiments  of 
unselfish  benevolence  and  love  of  justice,  but  from  the  effect 
of  educated  intellect  enlightening  the  selfish  feelings."  John 
Stuart  Mill,  with  that  candor  which  is  the  rarest  of  his  great 
qualities,  gave  a  generous  and  authoritative  testimony  to  the 


134  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  ra. 

merit  of  these  attacks  upon  his  father  and  his  father's  creed 
which  Macaulay  himself  lived  to  wish  that  he  had  left  un- 
written. 

He  was  already  famous  enough  to  have  incurred  the  inevi- 
table penalty  of  success  in  the  shape  of  the  pronounced  hostil- 
ity of  Blackwood '«  Magazine.  The  feelings  which  the  lead- 
ing contributors  to  that  periodical  habitually  entertained  to- 
ward a  young  and  promising  writer  were  in  his  case  sharpened 
by  political  partisanship ;  and  the  just  and  measured  severity 
which  he  infused  into  his  criticism  on  Southey's  "  Colloquies 
of  Society "  brought  down  upon  him  the  bludgeon  to  whose 
strokes  poetic  tradition  has  attributed  the  death  of  Keats. 
Macaulay  was  made  of  harder  stuff,  and  gave  little  heed  to 
a  string  of  unsavory  invectives  compounded  out  of  such  epi- 
thets as  "  ugly,"  "  splay-footed,"  and  "  shapeless ;"  such  phrases 
as  "stuff  and  nonsense,"  "malignant  trash,"  "impertinent 
puppy,"  and  "audacity  of  impudence;"  and  other  samples 
from  the  polemical  vocabulary  of  the  personage  who,  by  the 
irony  of  fate,  filled  the  chair  of  moral  philosophy  at  Edin- 
burgh. The  substance  of  Professor  "Wilson's  attacks  consisted 
in  little  more  than  the  reiteration  of  that  charge  of  intellectu- 
al juvenility  which  never  fails  to  be  employed  as  the  last  re- 
source against  a  man  whose  abilities  are  undoubted  and  whose 
character  is  above  detraction :  a  charge  which  came  with  an 
ill  grace  from  one  who,  at  the  age  of  forty-five,  considered  the 
production  of  twenty  columns  a  month  of  Bacchanalian  gos- 
sip a  worthy  and  becoming  occupation  for  his  own  powers. 

"  North.  He's  a  clever  lad,  James. 

"  Shepherd.  Evidently ;  and  a  clever  lad  he'll  remain,  de- 
pend ye  upon  that,  a'  the  days  of  his  life.  A  clever  lad  thir- 
ty years  auld  and  some  odds  is  to  ma  mind  the  maist  melan- 
choly sight  in  nature.  Only  think  of  a  clever  lad  o'  three- 
score and  ten,  on  his  death -bed,  wha  can  look  back  on  nae 
greater  achievement  than  haeing  aince,  or  aiblins  ten  times, 
abused  Mr.  Southey  in  the  Embrtf  Review" 

The  prophecies  of  jealousy  seldom  come  true.  Southey's 
book  died  before  its  author :  with  the  exception  of  the  pas- 
sages extracted  by  Macaulay,  which  have  been  reproduced  in 


1824-'30.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  135 

his  essay  a  hundred  times  and  more  for  once  that  they  were 
printed  in  the  volumes  from  which  he  selected  them  for  his 
animadversion. 

The  chambers  in  which  he  ought  to  have  been  spending  his 
days,  and  did  actually  spend  his  nights,  between  the  years  1829 
and  1834,  were  within  five  minutes'  walk  of  the  house  in 
Great  Ormond  Street.  The  building  of  which  those  cham- 
bers f  oraied  a  part,  8  South  Square,  Gray's  Inn,  has  since  been 
pulled  down  to  make  room  for  an  extension  of  the  library ;  a 
purpose  which,  in  Macaulay's  eyes,  would  amply  compensate 
for  the  loss  of  such  associations  as  might  otherwise  have  at- 
tached themselves  to  the  locality.  His  Trinity  fellowship* 
brought  him  in  nearly  three  hundred  pounds  annually,  and 
the  Edinburgh  Review  almost  as  much  again.  In  January, 
1828,  during  the  interregnum  that  separated  the  resignation 
of  Lord  Goderich  and  the  acceptance  of  the  premiership  by 
the  Duke  of  "Wellington,  Lord  Lyndhurst  made  him  a  com- 
missioner of  bankruptcy :  a  rare  piece  of  luck  at  a  time  when, 
as  Lord  Cockburn  tells  us,  "  a  youth  of  a  Tory  family,  who 
was  discovered  to  have  a  leaning  toward  the  doctrines  of  the 
opposition,  was  considered  as  a  lost  son."  "  The  commission 
is  welcome,"  Macaulay  writes  to  his  father,  "  and  I  am  partic- 
ularly glad  that  it  has  been  given  at  a  time  when  there  is  no 
ministry,  and  when  the  acceptance  of  it  implies  no  political 
obligation.  To  Lord  Lyndhurst  I,  of  course,  feel  personal 
gratitude,  and  I  shall  always  take  care  how  I  speak  of  him." 

The  emoluments  of  the  office  made  up  his  income,  for  the 
three  or  four  years  during  which  he  held  it,  to  about  a  thou- 
sand pounds  per  annum.  His  means  were  more  than  suf- 
ficient for  his  wants,  but  too  small  and  far  too  precarious  for 
the  furtherance  of  the  political  aspirations  which  now  were 
uppermost  in  his  mind.  "  Public  affairs,"  writes  Lady  Tre- 
velyan,  "  were  become  intensely  interesting  to  him.  Can- 
ning's accession  to  power,  then  his  death,  the  repeal  of  the 
Test  Act,  the  emancipation  of  the  Catholics,  all  in  their  turn 
filled  his  heart  and  soul.  He  himself  longed  to  be  taking  his 
part  in  Parliament,  but  with  a  very  hopeless  longing. 

"  In  February,  1830, 1  was  staying  at  Mr.  "Wilberforce's,  at 


136  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  m. 

Highwood  Hill,  when  I  got  a  letter  from  your  uncle,  inclosing 
one  from  Lord  Lansdowne,  who  told  him  that  he  had  been 
much  struck  by  the  articles  on  Mill,  and  that  he  wished  to  be 
the  means  of  first  introducing  their  author  to  public  life  by 
proposing  to  him  to  stand  for  the  vacant  seat  at  Calne.  Lord 
Lansdowne  expressly  added  that  it  was  your  uncle's  high  mor- 
al and  private  character  which  had  determined  him  to  make 
the  offer,  and  that  he  wished  in  no  respect  to  influence  his 
votes,  but  to  leave  him  quite  at  liberty  to  act  according  to  his 
conscience.  I  remember  flying  into  Mr.  Wilberf  orce's  study, 
and,  absolutely  speechless,  putting  the  letter  into  his  hands. 
'He  read  it  with  much  emotion,  and  returned  it  to  me,  saying, 
*  Your  father  has  had  great  trials,  obloquy,  bad  health,  many 
anxieties.  One  must  feel  as  if  Tom  were  given  him  for  a 
recompense.'  He  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and  then  his  mo- 
bile face  lighted  up,  and  he  clapped  his  hand  to  his  ear,  and 
cried,  'Ah !  I  hear  that  shout  again.  Hear !  hear !  What  a 
life  it  was !' " 

And  so,  on  the  eve  of  the  most  momentous  conflict  that  ever 
was  fought  out  by  speech  and  vote  within  the  walls  of  a  sen- 
ate -  house,  the  young  recruit  went  gayly  to  his  post  in  the 
ranks  of  that  party  whose  coming  fortunes  he  was  prepared 
loyally  to  follow,  and  the  history  of  whose  past  he  was  des- 
tined eloquently,  and  perhaps  imperishably,  to  record. 

York,  April  2d,  1826. 

MY  DEAR  FATHER, — I  am  sorry  that  I  have  been  unable  to 
avail  myself  of  the  letters  of  introduction  which  you  forward- 
ed to  me.  Since  I  received  them  I  have  been  confined  to  the 
house  with  a  cold  ;  and,  now  that  I  am  pretty  well  recovered, 
I  must  take  my  departure  for  Pontefract.  But  if  it  had  been 
otherwise,  I  could  not  have  presented  these  recommendations. 
Letters  of  this  sort  may  be  of  great  service  to  a  barrister,  but 
the  barrister  himself  must  not  be  the  bearer  of  them.  On 
this  subject  the  rule  is  most  strict,  at  least  on  our  circuit.  The 
hugging  of  the  Bar,  like  the  simony  of  the  Church,  must  be 
altogether  carried  on  by  the  intervention  of  third  persons. 
We  are  sensible  of  our  dependence  on  the  attorneys,  and  pro- 


1824-'30.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  137 

portioned  to  that  sense  of  dependence  is  our  affectation  of  su- 
periority. Even  to  take  a  meal  with  an  attorney  is  a  high 
misdemeanor.  One  of  the  most  eminent  men  among  us 
brought  himself  into  a  serious  scrape  by  doing  so.  But  to 
carry  a  letter  of  introduction,  to  wait  in  the  outer  room  while 
it  is  being  read,  to  be  then  ushered  into  the  presence,  to  re- 
ceive courtesies  which  can  only  be  considered  as  the  conde- 
scensions of  a  patron,  to  return  courtesies  which  are  little  else 
than  the  blessings  of  a  beggar,  would  be  an  infinitely  more 
terrible  violation  of  our  professional  code.  Every  barrister  to 
whom  I  have  applied  for  advice  has  most  earnestly  exhorted 
me  on  no  account  whatever  to  present  the  letters  myself.  I 
should  perhaps  add  that  my  advisers  have  been  persons  who 
can  not  by  any  possibility  feel  jealous  of  me. 

In  default  of  any  thing  better,  I  will  eke  out  my  paper  with 
some  lines  which  I  made  in  bed  last  night — an  inscription  for 
a  picture  of  Voltaire. 

If  thou  would'st  view  one  more  than  man  and  less, 
Made  up  of  mean  and  great,  of  foul  and  fair, 

Stop  here ;  and  weep  and  laugh,  and  curse  and  bless, 
And  spurn  and  worship ;  for  thou  seest  Voltaire. 

That  flashing  eye  blasted  the  conqueror's  spear, 
The  monarch's  sceptre,  and  the  Jesuit's  beads ; 

And  every  wrinkle  in  that  haggard  sneer  ' 
Hath  been  the  grave  of  Dynasties  and  Creeds. 

In  very  wantonness  of  childish  mirth 
He  puffed  Bastilles,  and  thrones,  and  shrines  away, 

Insulted  Heaven,  and  liberated  earth. 
Was  it  for  good  or  evil  ?  Who  shall  say  ? 

Ever  affectionately  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

York,  July  21st,  1826. 

MY  DEAR  FATHER, — The  other  day  as  I  was  changing  my 
neckcloth  which  my  wig  had  disfigured,  my  good  landlady 
knocked  at  the  door  of  my  bedroom,  and  told  me  that  Mr. 
Smith  wished  to  see  me,  and  was  in  my  room  below.  Of  all 
names  by  which  men  are  called,  there  is  none  which  con- 


138  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  in. 

veys  a  less  determinate  idea  to  the  mind  than  that  of  Smith. 
Was  he  on  the  circuit  ?  For  I  do  not  know  half  the  names 
of  my  companions.  Was  he  a  special  messenger  from  Lon- 
don? Was  he  a  York  attorney  coming  to  be  preyed  upon, 
or  a  beggar  coming  to  prey  upon  me;  a  barber  to  solicit 
the  dressing  of  my  wig,  or  a  collector  for  the  Jews'  Society  ? 
Down  I  went,  and,  to  my  utter  amazement,  beheld  the  Smith 
of  Smiths,  Sydney  Smith,  alias  Peter  Plymley.  I  had  forgot- 
ten his  very  existence  till  I  discerned  the  queer  contrast  be- 
tween his  black  coat  and  his  snow-white  head,  and  the  equally 
curious  contrast  between  the  clerical  amplitude  of  his  person 
and  the  most  unclerical  wit,  whim,  and  petulance  of  his  eye. 
I  shook  hands  with  him  very  heartily ;  and  on  the  Catholic 
question  we  immediately  fell,  regretted  Evans,*  triumphed 
over  Lord  George  Beresf  ord,  and  abused  the  bishops.  He  then 
very  kindly  urged  me  to  spend  the  time  between  the  close 
of  the  Assizes  and  the  commencement  of  the  Sessions  at  his 
house ;  and  was  so  hospitably  pressing  that  I  at  last  agreed  to 
go  thither  on  Saturday  afternoon.  He  is  to  drive  me  over 
again  into  York  on  Monday  morning.  I  am  very  well  pleased 
at  having  this  opportunity  of  becoming  better  acquainted  with 
a  man  who,  in  spite  of  innumerable  affectations  and  oddities, 
is  certainly  one  of  the  wittiest  and  most  original  writers  of 
our  times.  Ever  yours  affectionately,  T.  B.  M. 

Bradford,  July  2Gth,  1826. 

MY  DEAR  FATHER, — On  Saturday  I  went  to  Sydney  Smith's. 
His  parish  lies  three  or  four  miles  out  of  any  frequented  road. 
He  is,  however,  most  pleasantly  situated.  "Fifteen  years 
ago,"  said  he  to  me,  as  I  alighted  at  the  gate  of  his  shrubbery, 
"  I  was  taken  up  in  Piccadilly  and  set  down  here.  There 
was  no  house,  and  no  garden ;  nothing  but  a  bare  field."  One 
service  this  eccentric  divine  has  certainly  rendered  to  the 
Church — he  has  built  the  very  neatest,  most  commodious,  and 
most  appropriate  rectory  that  I  ever  saw.  All  its  decorations 

*  These  allusions  refer  to  the  general  election  which  had  recently  taken 
place. 


1824-'30.]  LOKD  MACAULAY.  139 

are  in  a  peculiarly  clerical  style,  grave,  simple,  and  Gothic. 
The  bed-chambers  are  excellent,  and  excellently  fitted  up ;  the 
sitting-rooms  handsome ;  and  the  grounds  sufficiently  pretty. 
Tindal  and  Parke  (not  the  judge,  of  course),  two  of  the  best 
lawyers,  best  scholars,  and  best  men  in  England,  were  there. 
We  passed  an  extremely  pleasant  evening,  had  a  very  good 
dinner,  and  many  amusing  anecdotes. 

After  breakfast  the  next  morning,  I  walked  to  church  with 
Sydney  Smith.  The  edifice  is  not  at  all  in  keeping  with  the 
rectory.  It  is  a  miserable  little  hovel,  with  a  wooden  bel- 
fry. It  was,  however,  well  filled,  and  with  decent  people,  who 
seemed  to  take  very  much  to  their  pastor.  I  understand  that 
he  is  a  very  respectable  apothecary ;  and  most  liberal  of  his 
skill,  his  medicine,  his  soup,  and  his  wine  among  the  sick. 
He  preached  a  very  queer  sermon — the  former  half  too  famil- 
iar, and  the  latter  half  too  florid,  but  not  without  some  inge- 
nuity of  thought  and  expression. 

Sydney  Smith  brought  me  to  York  on  Monday  morning, 
in  time  for  the  stage-coach  which  runs  to  Skipton.  We  part- 
ed with  many  assurances  of  good- will.  I  have  really  taken  a 
great  liking  to  him.  He  is  full  of  wit,  humor,  and  shrewd- 
ness. He  is  not  one  of  those  show -talkers  who  reserve  all 
their  good  things  for  special  occasions.  It  seems  to  be  his 
greatest  luxury  to  keep  his  wife  and  daughters  laughing  for 
two  or  three  hours  every  day.  His  notions  of  law,  govern- 
ment, and  trade  are  surprisingly  clear  and  just.  His  misfor- 
tune is  to  have  chosen  a  profession  at  once  above  him  and  be- 
low him.  Zeal  would  have  made  him  a  prodigy ;  formality 
and  bigotry  would  have  made  him  a  bishop;  but  he  could 
neither  rise  to  the  duties  of  his  order,  nor  stoop  to  its  degra- 
dations. 

He  praised  my  articles  in  the  Edinburgh  Review  with  a 
warmth  which  I  am  willing  to  believe  sincere,  because  he 
qualified  his  compliments  with  several  very  sensible  cautions. 
My  great  danger,  he  said,  was  that  of  taking  a  tone  of  too 
much  asperity  and  contempt  in  controversy.  I  believe  that 
he  is  right,  and  I  shall  try  to  mend.' 

Ever  affectionately  yours,  T.  B.  M. 


140  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  in. 

Lancaster,  September  1st,  1827. 

MY  DEAR  FATHER, — Thank  Hannah  from  me  for  her  pleas- 
ant letter.  I  would  answer  it  if  I  had  any  thing  equally 
amusing  to  say  in  return  ;  but  here  we  have  no  news,  except 
what  comes  from  London,  and  is  as  stale  as  inland  fish  before 
it  reaches  us.  We  have  circuit  anecdotes,  to  be  sure ;  and 
perhaps  you  will  be  pleased  to  hear  that  Brougham  has  been 
rising  through  the  whole  of  this  struggle.  At  York,  Pollock 
decidedly  took  the  lead.  At  Durham,  Brougham  overtook 
him,  passed  him  at  Newcastle,  and  got  immensely  ahead  of 
him  at  Carlisle  and  Appleby,  which,  to  be  sure,  are  the  places 
where  his  own  connections  lie.  We  have  not  been  here  quite 
long  enough  to  determine  how  he  will  succeed  with  the  Lan- 
castrians. This  has  always  hitherto  been  his  least  favorable 
place.  He  appears  to  improve  in  industry  and  prudence.  He 
learns  his  story  more  thoroughly,  and  tells  it  more  clearly 
than  formerly.  If  he  continues  to  manage  causes  as  well  as 
he  has  done  of  late,  he  must  rise  to  the  summit  of  the  profes- 
sion. I  can  not  say  quite  so  much  for  his  temper,  which  this 
close  and  constant  rivalry  does  not  improve.  He  squabbles 
with  Pollock  more  than,  in  generosity  or  policy,  he  ought  to 
do.  I  have  heard  several  of  our  younger  men  wondering  that 
he  does  not  show  more  magnanimity.  He  yawns  while  Pol- 
lock is  speaking — a  sign  of  weariness  which,  in  their  present 
relation  to  each  other,  he  would  do  well  to  suppress.  He  has 
said  some  very  good,  but  very  bitter,  things.  There  was  a 
case  of  a  lead -mine.  Pollock  was  for  the  proprietors,  and 
complained  bitterly  of  the  encroachments  which  Brougham's 
clients  had  made  upon  this  property,  which  he  represented  as 
of  immense  value.  Brougham  said  that  the  estimate  which 
his  learned  friend  formed  of  the  property  was  vastly  exagger- 
ated, but  that  it  was  no  wonder  that  a  person  who  found  it  so 
easy  to  get  gold  for  his  lead  should  appreciate  that  heavy 
metal  so  highly.  The  other  day  Pollock  laid  down  a  point 
of  law  rather  dogmatically.  "  Mr.  Pollock,"  said  Brougham, 
"perhaps,  before  you  rule  the  point,  you  will  suffer  his  lord- 
ship to  submit  a  few  observations  on  it  to  your  considera- 
tion." 


1824-'30.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  141 

I  received  the  Edinburgh  paper  which  you  sent  me.  Silly 
and  spiteful  as  it  is,  there  is  a  little  truth  in  it.  In  such  cases 
I  always  remember  those  excellent  lines  of  Boileau : 

Moi,  qu'une  humeur  trop  libre,  un  esprit  peu  sounds, 
De  bonne  heure  a  pourvu  d'utiles  ennemis, 
Je  dois  plus  a  leur  baine  (il  faut  que  je  1'avoue) 
Qu'au  faible  et  vain  talent  dont  la  France  me  loue. 
8it6t  que  sur  un  vice  ils  pensent  me  confondre, 
C'est  en  me  guerissant  que  je  sais  leur  re'pondre. 

This  place  disagrees  so  much  with  me  that  I  shall  leave  it 
as  soon  as  the  dispersion  of  the  circuit  commences — that  is, 
after  the  delivery  of  the  last  batch  of  briefs ;  always  suppos- 
ing, which  may  be  supposed  without  much  risk  of  mistake, 
that  there  are  none  for  me. 

Ever  yours  affectionately,  T.  B.  M. 

It  was  about  this  period  that  the  Cambridge  Senate  came 
to  a  resolution  to  petition  against  the  Catholic  Claims.  The 
minority  demanded  a  poll,  and  conveyed  a  hint  to  their  friends 
in  London.  Macaulay,  with  one  or  two  more  to  help  him, 
beat  up  the  Inns  of  Court  for  recruits,  chartered  a  stage-coach, 
packed  it  inside  and  out  with  young  Whig  masters  of  arts, 
and  drove  up  King's  Parade  just  in  time  to  turn  the  scale  in 
favor  of  Emancipation.  The  whole  party  dined  in  triumph 
at  Trinity,  and  got  back  to  town  the  same  evening ;  and  the 
Tory  journalists  were  emphatic  in  their  indignation  at  the 
deliberate  opinion  of  the  university  having  been  overridden 
by  a  coachf  ul  of  "  godless  and  briefless  barristers." 

Court-house,  Pomfret,  April  15th,  1828. 

MY  DEAR  MOTHER, — I  address  this  epistle  to  you  as  the 
least  undeserving  of  a  very  undeserving  family.  You,  I  think, 
have  sent  me  one  letter  since  I  left  London.  I  have  nothing 
here  to  do  but  to  write  letters ;  and,  what  is  not  very  often 
the  case,  I  have  members  of  Parliament  in  abundance  to  frank 
them,  and  abundance  of  matter  to  fill  them  with.  My  Edin- 
burgh expedition  has  given  me  so  much  to  say  that,  unless  I 
write  off  some  of  it  before  I  come  home,  I  shall  talk  you  all 


142  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  in. 

to  death,  and  be  voted  a  bore  in  every  house  which  I  visit.  I 
will  commence  with  Jeffrey  himself.  I  had  almost  forgotten 
his  person ;  and,  indeed,  I  should  not  wonder  if  even  now  I 
were  to  forget  it  again.  He  has  twenty  faces,  almost  as  un- 
like each  other  as  my  father's  to  Mr.  Wilberforce's,  and  infi- 
nitely more  unlike  to  each  other  than  those  of  near  relatives 
often  are ;  infinitely  more  unlike,  for  example,  than  those  of 
the  two  Grants.  When  absolutely  quiescent,  reading  a  paper, 
or  hearing  a  conversation  in  which  he  takes  no  interest,  his 
countenance  shows  no  indication  whatever  of  intellectual  su- 
periority of  any  kind.  But  as  soon  as  he  is  interested,  and 
opens  his  eyes  upon  you,  the  change  is  like  magic.  There  is 
a  flash  in  his  glance,  a  violent"  contortion  in  his  frown,  an  ex- 
quisite humor  in  his  sneer,  and  a  sweetness  and  brilliancy  in 
his  smile,  beyond  any  thing  that  ever  I  witnessed.  A  person 
who  had  seen  him  in  only  one  state  would  not  know  him  if  he 
saw  him  in  another.  For  he  has  not,  like  Brougham,  marked 
features  which  in  all  moods  of  mind  remain  unaltered.  The 
mere  outline  of  his  face  is  insignificant.  The  expression  is 
every  thing;  and  such  power  and  variety  of  expression  I 
never  saw  in  any  human  countenance,  not  even  in  that  of  the 
most  celebrated  actors.  I  can  conceive  that  Garrick  may  have 
been  like  him.  I  have  seen  several  pictures  of  Garrick,  none 
resembling  another,  and  I  have  heard  Hannah  More  speak  of 
the  extraordinary  variety  of  countenance  by  which  he  was 
distinguished,  and  of  the  unequaled  radiance  and  penetration 
of  his  eye.  The  voice  and  delivery  of  Jeffrey  resemble  his 
face.  He  possesses  considerable  power  of  mimicry,  and  rarely 
tells  a  story  without  imitating  several  different  accents.  His 
familiar  tone,  his  declamatory  tone,  and  his  pathetic  tone  are 
quite  different  things.  Sometimes  Scotch  predominates  in  his 
pronunciation ;  sometimes  it  is  imperceptible.  Sometimes  his 
utterance  is  snappish  and  quick  to  the  last  degree ;  sometimes 
it  is  remarkable  for  rotundity  and  mellowness.  I  can  easily 
conceive  that  two  people  who  had  seen  him  on  different  days 
might  dispute  about  him  as  the  travelers  in  the  fable  disputed 
about  the  chameleon. 
In  one  thing,  as  far  as  I  observed,  he  is  always  the  same ; 


1824-'30.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  143 

and  that  is  the  warmth  of  his  domestic  affections.  Neither 
Mr.  Wilberf  orce  nor  my  uncle  Babington  comes  up  to  him  in 
this  respect.  The  flow  of  his  kindness  is  quite  inexhaustible. 
Not  five  minutes  pass  without  some  fond  expression  or  caress- 
ing gesture  to  his  wife  or  his  daughter.  He  has  fitted  up  a 
study  for  himself;  but  he  never  goes  into  it.  Law  papers, 
reviews,  whatever  he  has  to  write,  he  writes  in  the  drawing- 
room  or  in  his  wife's  boudoir.  When  he  goes  to  other  parts 
of  the  country  on  a  retainer  he  takes  them  in  the  carriage 
with  him.  I  do  not  wonder  that  he  should  be  a  good  hus- 
band ;  for  his  wife  is  a  very  amiable  woman.  But  I  was  sur- 
prised to  see  a  man  so  keen  and  sarcastic,  so  much  of  a  scoffer, 
pouring  himself  out  with  such  simplicity  and  tenderness  in  all 
sorts  of  affectionate  nonsense.  Through  our  whole  journey  to 
Perth  he  kept  up  a  sort  of  mock  quarrel  with  his  daughter; 
attacked  her  about  novel-reading,  laughed  her  into  a  pet,  kiss- 
ed her  out  of  it,  and  laughed  her  into  it  again.  She  and  her 
mother  absolutely  idolize  him,  and  I  do  not  wonder  at  it. 

His  conversation  is  very  much  like  his  countenance  and  his 
voice,  of  immense  variety ;  sometimes  plain  and  unpretending 
even  to  flatness ;  sometimes  whimsically  brilliant  and  rhetor- 
ical almost  beyond  the  license  of  private  discourse.  He  has 
many  interesting  anecdotes,  and  tells  them  very  well.  He  is 
a  shrewd  observer ;  and  so  fastidious  that  I  am  not  surprised 
at  the  awe  in  which  many  people  seem  to  stand  when  in  his 
company.  Though  not  altogether  free  from  affectation  him- 
self, he  has  a  peculiar  loathing  for  it  in  other  people,  and  a 
great  talent  for  discovering  and  exposing  it.  He  has  a  partic- 
ular contempt,  in  which  I  most  heartily  concur  with  him,  for 
the  fadaises  of  blue-stocking  literature,  for  the  mutual  flat- 
teries of  coteries,  the  handing  about  of  vers  de  societe,  the  al- 
bums, the  conversaziones,  and  all  the  other  nauseous  trickeries 
of  the  Sewards,  Hayleys,  and  Sothebys-  I  am  not  quite  sure 
that  he  has  escaped  the  opposite  extreme,  and  that  he  is  not  a 
little  too  desirous  to  appear  rather  a  man  of  the  world,  an  act- 
ive lawyer,  or  an  easy,  careless  gentleman,  than  a  distinguish- 
ed writer.  I  must  own  that  when  Jeffrey  and  I  were  by  our- 
selves, he  talked  much  and  very  well  on  literary  topics.  His 


144  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  m. 

kindness  and  hospitality  to  me  were,  indeed,  beyond  descrip- 
tion ;  and  his  wife  was  as  pleasant  and  friendly  as  possible.  I 
liked  every  thing  but  the  hours.  We  were  never  up  till  ten, 
and  never  retired  till  two  hours  at  least  after  midnight.  Jef- 
frey, indeed,  never  goes  to  bed  till  sleep  comes  on  him  over- 
poweringly,  and  never  rises  till  forced  up  by  business  or  hun- 
ger. He  is  extremely  well  in  health ;  so  that  I  could  not  help 
suspecting  him  of  being  very  hypochondriac ;  for  all  his  late 
letters  to  me  have  been  tilled  with  lamentations  about  his  va- 
rious maladies.  His  wife  told  me,  when  I  congratulated  her 
on  his  recovery,  that  I  must  not  absolutely  rely  on  all  his  ac- 
counts of  his  own  diseases.  I  really  think  that  he  is,  on  the 
whole,  the  youngest-looking  man  of  fifty  that  I  know,  at  least 
when  he  is  animated. 

His  house  is  magnificent.  It  is  in  Moray  Place,  the  newest 
pile  of  buildings  in  the  town,  looking  out  to  the  Forth  on  one 
side,  and  to  a  green  garden  on  the  other.  It  is  really  equal 
to  the  houses  in  Grosvenor  Square.  Fine,  however,  as  is  the 
new  quarter  of  Edinburgh,  I  decidedly  prefer  the  Old  Town. 
There  is  nothing  like  it  in  the  island.  You  have  been  there ; 
but  you  have  not  seen  the  town:  and  no  lady  ever  sees  a 
town.  It  is  only  by  walking  on  foot  through  all  corners  at 
all  hours  that  cities  can  be  really  studied  to  good  purpose. 
There  is  a  new  pillar  to  the  memory  of  Lord  Melville ;  very 
elegant,  and  very  much  better  than  the  man  deserved.  His 
statue  is  at  the  top,  with  a  wreath  on  the  head  very  like  a 
night-cap  drawn  over  the  eyes.  It  is  impossible  to  look  at  it 
without  being  reminded  of  the  fate  which  the  original  most 
richly  merited.  But  my  letter  will  overflow  even  the  ample 
limits  of  a  frank,  if  I  do  not  conclude.  I  hope  that  you  will 
be  properly  penitent  for  neglecting  such  a  correspondent  when 
you  receive  so  long  a  dispatch  written  amidst  the  bellowing  of 
justices,  lawyers,  criers,  witnesses,  prisoners,  and  prisoners'  wives 
and  mothers.  Ever  yours  affectionately,  T.  B.  M. 

Lancaster,  March  14th,  1829. 

MY  DEAR  FATHER, — A  single  line  to  say  that  I  am  at  Lan- 
caster. Where  you  all  are  I  have  not  the  very  slightest 


1824-'30.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  145 

notion.  Pray  let  me  hear.  That  dispersion  of  the  Gentiles 
which  our  friends  the  prophets  foretell  seems  to  have  com- 
menced with  our  family. 

Every  thing  here  is  going  on  in  the  common  routine.  The 
only  things  of  peculiar  interest  are  those  which  we  get  from 
the  London  papers.  All  minds  seem  to  be  perfectly  made  up 
as  to  the  certainty  of  Catholic  Emancipation  having  come  at 
last.  The  feeling  of  approbation  among  the  barristers  is  all 
but  unanimous.  The  quiet  towns-people  here,  as  far  as  I  can 
see,  are  very  well  contented.  As  soon  as  I  arrived  I  was 
asked  by  my  landlady  how  things  had  gone.  I  told  her  the 
division,  which  I  had  learned  from  Brougham  at  Garstang. 
She  seemed  surprised  at  the  majority.  I  asked  her  if  she  was 
against  the  measure.  "No;  she  only  wished  that  all  Chris- 
tians would  live  in  peace  and  charity  together."  A  very  sen- 
sible speech,  and  better  than  one  at  least  of  the  members  for 
the  county  ever  made  in  his  life. 

I  implore  you  above  every  thing,  my  dear  father,  to  keep  up 
your  health  and  spirits.  Come  what  may,  the  conveniences  of 
life,  independence,  our  personal  respectability,  and  the  exercise 
of  the  intellect  and  the  affections,  we  are  almost  certain  of  re- 
taining ;  and  every  thing  else  is  a  mere  superfluity,  to  be  en- 
joyed, but  not  to  be  missed.  But  I  ought  to  be  ashamed  of 
reading  you  a  lecture  on  qualities  which  you  are  so  much 
more  competent  to  teach  than  myself. 

Ever  yours  very  affectionately,  T.  B.  M. 

To  Macvey  Napier,  Esq. 

50  Great  Ormond  Street,  London,  January  25th,  1830. 

MY  DEAR  SIK, — I  send,  off  by  the  mail  of  to-day  an  article 
on  Southey — too  long,  I  fear,  to  meet  your  wishes,  but  as 
short  as  I  could  make  it. 

There  were,  by-the-bye,  in  my  last  article  a  few  omissions 
made,  of  no  great  consequence  in  themselves ;  the  longest,  I 
think,  a  paragraph  of  twelve  or  fourteen  lines.  I  should 
scarcely  have  thought  this  worth  mentioning,  as  it  certainly 
by  no  means  exceeds  the  limits  of  that  editorial  prerogative 
which  I  most  willingly  recognize,  but  that  the  omissions  seem- 

YOL.  I.— 10 


146  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  in. 

ed  to  me,  and  to  one  or  two  persons  who  had  seen  the  article 
in  its  original  state,  to  be  made  on  a  principle  which,  howev- 
er sound  in  itself,  does  not,  I  think,  apply  to  compositions  of 
this  description.  The  passages  omitted  were  the  most  pointed 
and  ornamented  sentences  in  the  review.  Now,  for  high  and 
grave  works,  a  history,  for  example,  or  a  system  of  political 
or  moral  philosophy,  Dr.  Johnson's  rule — that  every  sentence 
which  the  writer  thinks  fine  ought  to  be  cut  out — is  excellent. 
But  periodical  works  like  ours,  which,  unless  they  strike  at  the 
first  reading  are  not  likely  to  strike  at  all,  whose  whole  life 
is  a  month  or  two,  may,  I  think,  be  allowed  to  be  sometimes 
even  viciously  florid.  Probably,  in  estimating  the  real  value 
of  any  tinsel  which  I  may  put  upon  my  articles,  you  and  I 
should  not  materially  differ.  But  it  is  not  by  his  own  taste, 
but  by  the  taste  of  the  fish,  that  the  angler  is  determined  in 
his  choice  of  bait. 

Perhaps,  after  all,  I  am  ascribing  to  system  what  is  mere  ac- 
cident. Be  assured,  at  all  events,  that  what  I  have  said  is  said 
in  perfect  good-humor,  and  indicates  no  mutinous  disposition. 

The  Jews  are  about  to  petition  Parliament  for  relief  from 
the  absurd  restrictions  which  lie  on  them — the  last  relic  of  the 
old  system  of  intolerance.  I  have  been  applied  to  by  some  of 
them,  in  the  name  of  the  managers  of  the  scheme,  to  write  for 
them  in  the  Edinburgh  Review.  I  would  gladly  further  a 
cause  so  good,  and  you,  I  think,  could  have  no  objection. 
Ever  yours  truly,  T.  B.  MACAULAY. 

Bowoocl,  February  10th,  1830. 

MY  DEAK  FATHER, — I  am  here  in  a  very  nice  room,  with 
perfect  liberty,  and  a  splendid  library  at  my  command.  It 
seems  to  be  thought  desirable  that  I  should  stay  in  the  neigh- 
borhood, and  pay  my  compliments  to  my  future  constituents 
every  other  day. 

The  house  is  splendid  and  elegant,  yet  more  remarkable  for 
comfort  than  for  either  elegance  or  splendor.  I  never  saw 
any  great  place  so  thoroughly  desirable  for  a  residence.  Lord 
Kerry  tells  me  that  his  uncle  left  every  thing  in  ruin — trees 
cut  down,  and  rooms  unfurnished — and  sold  the  library,  which 
was  extremely  fine.  Every  book  and  picture  in  Bowood  has 


1824-'30.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  14-7 

been  bought  by  the  present  lord,  and  certainly  the  collection 
does  him  great  honor. 

I  am  glad  that  I  staid  here.  A  burgess  of  some  influence, 
who,  at  the  last  election,  attempted  to  get  up  an  opposition  to 
the  Lansdowne  interest,  has  just  arrived.  I  called  on  him  this 
morning,  and,  though  he  was  a  little  ungracious  at  first,  suc- 
ceeded in  obtaining  his  promise.  Without  him,  indeed,  my 
return  would  have  been  secure ;  but  both  from  motives  of  in- 
terest and  from  a  sense  of  gratitude  I  think  it  best  to  leave 
nothing  undone  which  may  tend  to  keep  Lord  Lansdowne's  in- 
fluence here  unimpaired  against  future  elections. 

Lord  Kerry  seems  to  me  to  be  going  on  well.  He  has  been 
in  very  good  condition,  he  says,  this  week ;  and  hopes  to  be 
at  the  election,  and  at  the  subsequent  dinner.  I  do  not  know 
when  I  have  taken  so  much  to  so  young  a  man.  In  general 
my  intimacies  have  been  with  my  seniors ;  but  Lord  Kerry  is 
really  quite  a  favorite  of  mine — kind,  lively,  intelligent,  mod- 
est, with  the  gentle  manners  which  indicate  a  long  intimacy 
with  the  best  society,  and  yet  without  the  least  affectation. 
"We  have  oceans  of  beer  and  mountains  of  potatoes  for  dinner. 
Indeed,  Lady  Lansdowne  drank  beer  most  heartily  on  the  only 
day  which  she  passed  with  us ;  and  when  I  told  her,  laughing, 
that  she  set  me  at  ease  on  a  point  which  had  given  me  much 
trouble,  she  said  that  she  would  never  suffer  any  dandy  novel- 
ist to  rob  her  of  her  beer  or  her  cheese. 

The  question  between  law  and  politics  is  a  momentous  one. 
As  far  as  I  am  myself  concerned,  I  should  not  hesitate ;  but 
the  interest  of  my  family  is  also  to  be  considered.  "We  shall 
see,  however,  before  long,  what  my  chance  of  success  as  a  pub- 
lic man  may  prove  to  be.  At  present  it  would  clearly  be 
wrong  in  me  to  show  any  disposition  to  quit  my  profession. 

I  hope  that  you  will  be  on  your  guard  as  to  what  you  may 
say  to  Brougham  about  this  business.  He  is  so  angry  at  it 
that  he  can  not  keep  his  anger  to  himself.  I  know  that  he 
has  blamed  Lord  Lansdowne  in  the  robing-room  of  the  Court 
of  King's  Bench.  The  seat  ought,  he  says,  to  have  been  given 
to  another  man.  If  he  means  Denman,  I  can  forgive,  and 
even  respect  him,  for  the  feeling  which  he  entertains. 

Believe  me  ever  yours  most  affectionately,      T.  B.  M. 


148  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  iv. 


CHAPTER  IT. 

1830-1832. 

State  of  Public  Affairs  when  Macaulay  entered  Parliament. — His  Maiden 
Speech. — The  French  Revolution  of  July,  1830. — Macaulay's  Letters 
from  Paris. — The  Palais  Royal. — Lafayette. — Lardner's  Cabinet  "Cy- 
clopedia."— The  New  Parliament  Meets. — Fall  of  the  Duke  of  Welling- 
ton.— Scene  with  Croker. — The  Reform  Bill. — Political  Success. — House 
of  Commons  Life. — Macaulay's  Party  Spirit. — London  Society. — Mr. 
Thomas  Flower  Ellis. — Visit  to  Cambridge. — Rothley  Temple. — Mar- 
garet Macaulay's  Journal. — Lord  Brougham. — Hopes  of  Office. — Mac- 
aulay as  a  Politician. — Letters  to  Lady  Trevelyan,  Mr.  Napier,  and  Mr. 
Ellis. 

THEOUGHOUT  the  last  two  centuries  of  our  history  there 
never  was  a  period  when  a  man  conscious  of  power,  impatient 
of  public  wrongs,  and  still  young  enough  to  love  a  fight  for 
its  own  sake,  could  have  entered  Parliament  with  a  fairer 
prospect  of  leading  a  life  worth  living,  and  doing  work  that 
would  requite  the  pains,  than  at  the  commencement  of  the 
year  1830. 

In  these  volumes,  which  only  touch  politics  in  order  to 
show  to  what  extent  Macaulay  was  a  politician,  and  for  how 
long,  controversies  can  not  appropriately  be  started  or  revived. 
This  is  not  the  place  to  enter  into  a  discussion  on  the  vexed 
question  as  to  whether  Mr.  Pitt  and  his  successors,  in  pursu- 
ing their  system  of  repression,  were  justified  by  the  neces- 
sities of  the  long  French  war. .  It  is  enough  to  assert,  what 
few  or  none  will  deny,  that,  for  the  space  of  more  than  a  gen- 
eration from  1790  onward,  our  country  had,  with  a  short  in- 
terval, been  governed  on  declared  reactionary  principles.  We 
in  whose  days  Whigs  and  Tories  have  often  exchanged  office, 
and  still  more  often  interchanged  policies,  find  it  difficult  to 
imagine  what  must  have  been  the  condition  of  the  kingdom 


1830-'32.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  149 

when  one  and  the  same  party  almost  continuously  held  not 
only  place,  but  power,  over  a  period  when  to  an  unexampled 
degree  "  public  life  was  exasperated  by  hatred,  and  the  char- 
ities of  private  life  soured  by  political  aversion."  Fear,  re- 
ligion, ambition,  and  self-interest  —  every  thing  that  could 
tempt  and  every  thing  that  could  deter — were  enlisted  on  the 
side  of  the  dominant  opinions.  To  profess  Liberal  views  was 
to  be  hopelessly  excluded  from  all  posts  of  emolument,  from 
all  functions  of  dignity,  from  the  opportunities  of  business, 
from  the  amenities  of  society.  Quiet  tradesmen,  who  vent- 
ured to  maintain  that  there  was  something  in  Jacobinism  be- 
sides the  guillotine,  soon  found  their  town  or  village  too  hot 
to  hold  them,  and  were  glad  to  place  the  Atlantic  between 
themselves  and  their  neighbors.  Clergymen  suspected  of 
thinking  that  in  the  "  Vindiciae  Gallicae  "  Mackintosh  had  got 
the  better  of  Burke,  were  ousted  from  their  college  fellow- 
ships as  atheists,  or  left  to  starve  without  a  curacy  as  radicals. 
Political  animosity  and  political  favoritism  made  themselves 
felt  in  departments  of  life  which  had  hitherto  been  free  from 
their  encroachments.  Whig  merchants  had  a  difficulty  in 
getting  money  for  their  paper,  and  Whig  barristers  in  obtain- 
ing acceptance  for  their  arguments.  Whig  statesmen,  while 
enjoying  that  security  for  life  and  liberty  which  even  in  the 
worst  days  of  our  recent  history  has  been  the  reward  of  em- 
inence, were  powerless  in  the  Commons  and  isolated  in  the 
Lords.  No  motive  but  disinterested  conviction  kept  a  hand- 
ful of  veterans  steadfast  round  a  banner  which  was  never 
raised  except  to  be  swept  contemptuously  down  by  the  disci- 
plined and  overwhelming  strength  of  the  ministerial  phalanx. 
Argument  and  oratory  were  alike  unavailing  under  a  con- 
stitution which  was,  indeed,  a  despotism  of  privilege.  The 
county  representation  of  England  was  an  anomaly,  and  the 
borough  representation  little  better  than  a  scandal.  The  con- 
stituencies of  Scotland,  with  so  much  else  that  of  right  be- 
longed to  the  public,  had  got  into  Dundas's  pocket.  In  the 
year  1820  all  the  towns  north  of  Tweed  together  contained 
fewer  voters  than  are  now  on  the  rolls  of  the  single  burgh  of 
Hawick,  and  all  the  counties  together  contained  fewer  voters 


150  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  iv. 

than  are  now  on  the  register  of  Roxburghshire.  So  small  a 
band  of  electors  was  easily  manipulated  by  a  party  leader  who 
had  the  patronage  of  India  at  his  command.  The  three  pres- 
idencies were  flooded  with  the  sons  and  nephews  of  men  who 
were  lucky  enough  to  have  a  seat  in  a  town-council  or  a  su- 
periority in  a  rural  district ;  and  fortunate  it  was  for  our  em- 
pire that  the  responsibilities  of  that  noblest  of  all  careers  soon 
educated  young  civil  servants  into  something  higher  than 
mere  adherents  of  a  political  party. 

While  the  will  of  the  nation  was  paralyzed  within  the  sen- 
ate, effectual  care  was  taken  that  its  voice  should  not  be  heard 
without.  The  press  was  gagged  in  England,  and  throttled 
in  Scotland.  Every  speech,  or  sermon,  or  pamphlet,  the  sub- 
stance of  which  a  crown  lawyer  could  torture  into  a  sem- 
blance of  sedition,  sent  its  author  to  the  jail,  the  hulks,  or  the 
pillory.  In  any  place  of  resort  where  an  informer  could  pene- 
trate, men  spoke  their  minds  at  imminent  hazard  of  ruinous 
fines  and  protracted  imprisonment.  It  was  vain  to  appeal  to 
Parliament  for  redress  against  the  tyranny  of  packed  juries 
and  panic-driven  magistrates.  Sheridan  endeavored  to  retain 
for  his  countrymen  the  protection  of  Habeas  Corpus,  but  he 
could  only  muster  forty -one  supporters.  Exactly  as  many 
members  followed  Fox  into  the  Ipbby  when  he  opposed  a  bill 
which,  interpreted  in  the  spirit  that  then  actuated  our  tribu- 
nals, made  attendance  at  an  open  meeting  summoned  for  the 
consideration  of  Parliamentary  Eef  orm  a  service  as  dangerous 
as  night  -  poaching  and  far  more  dangerous  than  smuggling. 
Only  ten  more  than  that  number  ventured  to  protest  against 
the  introduction  of  a  measure,  still  more  inquisitorial  in  its 
provisions  and  ruthless  in  its  penalties,  which  rendered  every 
citizen  who  gave  his  attention  to  the  removal  of  public  griev- 
ances liable  at  any  moment  to  find  himself  in  the  position  of 
a  criminal  —  that  very  measure  in  behalf  of  which  Bishop 
Horsley  had  stated  in  the  House  of  Peers  that  he  did  not 
know  what  the  mass  of  the  people  of  any  country  had  to  do 
with  the  laws  except  to  obey  them. 

Amidst  a  population  which  had  once  known  freedom,  and 
was  still  fit  to  be  intrusted  with  it,  such  a  state  of  matters 


1830-'32.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  151 

could  not  last  forever.  Justly  proud  of  the  immense  success 
that  they  had  bought  by  their  resolution,  their  energy,  and 
their  perseverance,  the  ministers  regarded  the  fall  of  Napo- 
leon as  a  party  triumph  which  could  only  serve  to  confirm 
their  power.  But  the  last  cannon-shot  that  was  fired  on  the 
18th  of  June,  1815,  was  in  truth  the  death-knell  of  the  Golden 
Age  of  Toryism.  When  the  passion  and  ardor  of  the  war 
gave  place  to  the  discontent  engendered  by  a  protracted  pe- 
riod of  commercial  distress,  the  opponents  of  progress  began 
to  perceive  that  they  had  to  reckon,  not  with  a  small  and  dis- 
heartened faction,  but  with  a  clear  majority  of  the  nation  led 
by  the  most  enlightened  and  the  most  eminent  of  its  sons. 
Agitators  and  incendiaries  retired  into  the  background,  as  will 
always  be  the  case  when  the  country  is  in  earnest ;  and  states- 
men who  had  much  to  lose,  but  were  not  afraid  to  risk  it, 
stepped  quietly  and  firmly  to  the  front.  The  men,  and  the 
sons  of  the  men,  who  had  so  long  endured  exclusion  from 
office  imbittered  by  unpopularity,  at  length  reaped  their  re- 
ward. Earl  Grey,  who  forty  years  before  had  been  hooted 
through  the  streets  of  North  Shields  with  cries  of  "  No  Po- 
pery," lived  to  bear  the  most  respected  name  in  England; 
and  Brougham,  whose  opinions  differed  little  from  those  for 
expressing  which  Dr.  Priestley,  in  1791,  had  his  house  burned 
about  his  ears  by  the  Birmingham  mob,  was  now  the  popular 
idol  beyond  all  comparison  or  competition. 

In  the  face  of  such  unanimity  of  purpose,  guided  by  so 
much  worth  and  talent,  the  ministers  lost  their  nerve,  and,  like 
all  rulers  who  do  not  possess  the  confidence  of  the  governed, 
began  first  to  make  mistakes  and  then  to  quarrel  among  them- 
selves. Throughout  the  years  of  Macaulay's  early  manhood 
the  ice  was  breaking  fast.  He  was  still  quite  young  when  the 
concession  of  Catholic  emancipation*  gave  a  moral  shock  to 

*  Macaulay  was  fond  of  repeating  an  answer  made  to  him  by  Lord  Clar- 
endon in  the  year  1829.  The  young  men  were  talking  over  the  situa- 
tion, and  Macaulay  expressed  curiosity  as  to  the  terms  in  which  the  Duke 
of  Wellington  would  recommend  the  Catholic  Relief  Bill  to  the  Peers. 
"  Oh,"  said  the  other,  "  it  will  be  easy  enough.  He'll  say, '  My  lords,  at- 
tention !  Right  about  face !  March!' " 


152  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.IV. 

the  Tory  party  from  which  it  never  recovered  until  the  old 
order  of  things  had  finally  passed  away.  It  was  his  fortune 
to  enter  into  other  men's  labors  after  the  burden  and  heat  of 
the  day  had  already  been  borne,  and  to  be  summoned  into  the 
field  just  as  the  season  was  at  hand  for  gathering  in  a  ripe  and 
long-expected  harvest  of  beneficent  legislation. 

On  the  5th  of  April,  1830,  he  addressed  the  House  of  Com- 
mons on  the  second  reading  of  Mr.  Robert  Grant's  bill  for 
the  removal  of  Jewish  disabilities.  Sir  James  Mackintosh  rose 
with  him,  but  Macaulay  got  the  advantage  of  the  preference 
that  has  always  been  conceded  to  one  who  speaks  for  the  first 
time  after  gaining  his  seat  during  the  continuance  of  a  Parlia- 
ment— a  privilege  which,  by  a  stretch  of  generosity,  is  now  ex- 
tended to  new  members  who  have  been  returned  at  a  general 
election.  Sir  James  subsequently  took  part  in  the  debate; 
not,  as  he  carefully  assured  his  audience,  "  to  supply  any  de- 
fects in  the  speech  of  his  honorable  friend,  for  there  were 
none  that  he  could  find,  but  principally  to  absolve  his  own 
conscience."  Indeed,  Macaulay,  addressing  himself  to  his  task 
with  an  absence  of  pretension  such  as  never  fails  to  conciliate 
the  good- will  of  the  House  toward  a  maiden  speech,  put  clear- 
ly and  concisely  enough  the  arguments  in  favor  of  the  bill — 
arguments  which,  obvious  and  almost  commonplace  as  they 
appear  under  this  straightforward  treatment,  had  yet  to  be  re- 
peated during  a  space  of  six-and-thirty  years  before  they  com- 
mended themselves  to  the  judgment  of  our  Upper  Chamber. 

"  The  power  of  which  you  deprive  the  Jew  consists  in  maces, 
and  gold  chains,  and  skins  of  parchment  with  pieces  of  wax 
dangling  from  their  edges.  The  power  which  you  leave  the 
Jew  is  the  power  of  principal  over  clerk,  of  master  over  serv- 
ant, of  landlord  over  tenant.  As  things  now  stand,  a  Jew 
may  be  the  richest  man  in  England.  He  may  possess  the 
means  of  raising  this  party  and  depressing  that ;  of  making 
East  Indian  directors ;  of  making  members  of  Parliament. 
The  influence  of  a  Jew  may  be  of  the  first  consequence  in  a 
war  which  shakes  Europe  to  the  centre.  His  power  may  come 
into  play  in  assisting  or  thwarting  the  greatest  plans  of  the 
greatest  princes;  and  yet,  with  all  this  confessed,  ackuowl- 


183Q-'32.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  153 

edged,  undenied,  you  would  have  him  deprived  of  power! 
Does  not  wealth  confer  power  ?  How  are  we  to  permit  all  the 
consequences  of  that  wealth  but  one  ?  I  can  not  conceive  the 
nature  of  an  argument  that  is  to  bear  out  such  a  position.  If 
we  were  to  be  called  on  to  revert  to  the  day  when  the  ware- 
houses of  Jews  were  torn  down  and  pillaged,  the  theory  would 
be  comprehensible.  But  we  have  to  do  with  a  persecution  so 
delicate  that  there  is  no  abstract  rule  for  its  guidance.  You 
tell  us  that  the  Jews  have  no  legal  right  to  power,  and  I  am 
bound  to  admit  it ;  but  in  the  same  way,  three  hundred  years 
ago  they  had  no  legal  right  to  be  in  England,  and  six  hundred 
years  ago  they  had  no  legal  right  to  the  teeth  in  their  heads. 
But,  if  it  is  the  moral  right  we  are  to  look  at,  I  hold  that  on 
every  principle  of  moral  obligation  the  Jew  has  a  right  to  po- 
litical power." 

He  was  on  his  legs  once  again,  and  once  only,  during  his 
first  session ;  doing  more  for  future  success  in  Parliament  by 
his  silence  than  he  could  have  effected  by  half  a  dozen  brill- 
iant perorations.  A  crisis  was  rapidly  approaching  when  a 
man  gifted  with  eloquence,  who  by  previous  self-restraint  had 
convinced  the  House  that  he  did  not  speak  for  speaking's 
sake,  might  rise  almost  in  a  day  to  the  very  summit  of  influ- 
ence and  ^reputation.  The  country  was  under  the  personal 
rule  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  who  had  gradually  squeezed 
out  of  his  Cabinet  every  vestige  of  Liberalism  and  even  of  in- 
dependence, and  who  at  last  stood  so  completely  alone  that  he 
was  generally  supposed  to  be  in  more  intimate  communica- 
tion with  Prince  Polignac  than  with  any  of  his  own  colleagues. 
The  duke  had  his  own  way  in  the  Lords ;  and  on  the  benches 
of  the  Commons  the  Opposition  members  were  unable  to  car- 
ry, or  even  visibly  to  improve  their  prospect  of  carrying,  the 
measures  on  which  their  hearts  were  set.  The  Reformers 
were  not  doing  better  in  the  division  lobby  than  in  1821,  and 
their  question  showed  no  signs  of  having  advanced  since  the 
day  when  it  had  been  thrown  over  by  Pitt  on  the  eve  of  the 
French  Revolution. 

But  the  outward  aspect  of  the  situation  was  very  far  from 
answering  to  the  reality.  "While  the  leaders  of  the  popular 


154  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  iv. 

party  had  been  spending  themselves  in  efforts  that  seemed 
each  more  abortive  than  the  last — dividing  only  to  be  enor- 
mously outvoted,  and  vindicating  with  calmness  and  modera- 
tion the  first  principles  of  constitutional  government  only  to 
be  stigmatized  as  the  apostles  of  anarchy — a  mighty  change 
was  surely  but  imperceptibly  effecting  itself  in  the  collective 
mind  of  their  fellow-countrymen. 

For,  while  the  tired  waves,  vainly  breaking, 

Seem  here  no  painful  inch  to  gain, 
Far  back,  through  creeks  and  inlets  making, 

Comes  silent,  flooding  in,  the  main. 

Events  were  at  hand  which  unmistakably  showed  how  dif- 
ferent was  the  England  of  1830  from  the  England  of  1790. 
The  king  died;  Parliament  was  dissolved  on  the  24th  of 
July ;  and  in  the  first  excitement  and  bustle  of  the  elections, 
while  the  candidates  were  still  on  the  road  and  the  writs  in 
the  mail -bag,  came  the  news  that  Paris  was  in  arms.  The 
troops  fought  as  well  as  Frenchmen  ever  can  be  got  to  fight 
against  the  tricolor ;  but  by  the  evening  of  the  29th  it  was  all 
over  with  the  Bourbons.  The  minister  whose  friendship  had 
reflected  such  unpopularity  on  our  own  premier  succumbed  to 
the  detestation  of  the  victorious  people,  and  his  sacrifice  did 
not  save  the  dynasty.  What  was  passing  among  our  neigh- 
bors for  once  created  sympathy,  and  not  repulsion,  on  this  side 
the  Channel.  One  French  revolution  had  condemned  En- 
glish Liberalism  to  forty  years  of  subjection,  and  another  was 
to  be  the  signal  which  launched  it  on  as  long  a  career  of  su- 
premacy. Most  men  said,  and  all  felt,  that  Wellington  must 
follow  Polignac ;  and  the  public  temper  was  such  as  made  it 
well  for  the  stability  of  our  throne  that  it  was  filled  by  a  mon- 
arch who  had  attracted  to  himself  the  hopes  and  affection  of 
the  nation,  and  who  shared  its  preferences  and  antipathies 
with  regard  to  the  leading  statesmen  of  the  day. 

One  result  of  political  disturbance  in  any  quarter  of  the 
globe  is  to  fill  the  scene  of  action  with  young  members  of 
Parliament,  who  follow  revolutions  about  Europe  as  assidu- 
ously as  Jew  brokers  attend  upon  the  movements  of  an  invad- 


1830-'32.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  155 

ing  army.  Macaulay,  whose  re-election  for  Calne  had  been  a 
thing  of  course,  posted  off  to  Paris  at  the  end  of  August,  jour- 
neying by  Dieppe  and  Rouen,  and  eagerly  enjoying  a  first 
taste  of  continental  travel.  His  letters  during  the  tour  were 
such  as,  previously  to  the  age  of  railroads,  brothers  who  had 
not  been  abroad  before  used  to  write  for  the  edification  of  sis- 
ters who  expected  never  to  go  abroad  at  all.  He  describes  in 
minute  detail  manners  and  institutions  that  to  us  are  no  long- 
er novelties,  and  monuments  which  an  educated  Englishman 
of  our  time  knows  as  well  as  Westminster  Abbey,  and  a  great 
deal  better  than  the  Tower.  Every  thing  that  he  saw,  heard, 
eat,  drank,  paid,  and  suffered,  was  noted  down  in  his  exuber- 
ant diction  to  be  read  aloud  and  commented  on  over  the 
breakfast-table  in  Great  Ormond  Street. 

"At  Rouen  I  was  struck  by  the  union  of  venerable  antiq- 
uity with  extreme  liveliness  and  gayety.  We  have  nothing 
of  the  sort  in  England.  Till  the  time  of  James  the  First,  I 
imagine,  our  houses  were  almost  all  of  wood,  and  have,  in 
consequence,  disappeared.  In  York  there  are  some  very  old 
streets  ;  but  they  are  abandoned  to  the  lowest  people,  and  the 
gay  shops  are  in  the  newly  built  quarter  of  the  town.  In 
London,  what  with  the  fire  of  1666,  and  what  with  the  nat- 
ural progress  of  demolition  and  rebuilding,  I  doubt  whether 
there  are  fifty  houses  that  date  from  the  Reformation.  But 
in  Rouen  you  have  street  after  street  of  lofty,  stern-looking 
masses  of  stone,  with  Gothic  carvings.  The  buildings  are  so 
high,  and  the  ways  so  narrow,  that  the  sun  can  scarcely  reach 
the  pavements.  Yet  in  these  streets,  monastic  in  their  aspect, 
you  have  all  the  glitter  of  Regent  Street  or  the  Burlington 
Arcade.  Rugged  and  dark  above,  below  they  are  a  blaze  of 
ribbons,  gowns,  watches,  trinkets,  artificial  flowers ;  grapes, 
melons,  and  peaches  such  as  Covent  Garden  does  not  furnish, 
filling  the  windows  of  the  fruiterers ;  showy  women  swim- 
ming smoothly  over  the  uneasy  stones,  and  stared  at  by  na- 
tional guards  swaggering  by  in  full  uniform.  It  is  the  Soho 
Bazaar  transplanted  into  the  gloomy  cloisters  of  Oxford." 

He  writes  to  a  friend  just  before  he  started  on  his  tour : 
"  There  is  much  that  I  am  impatient  to  see,  but  two  things 


156  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.IV. 

specially — the  Palais  Royal,  and  the  man  who  called  me  the 
Aristarchus  of  Edinburgh."  Who  this  person  might  be,  and 
whether  Macaulay  succeeded  in  meeting  him,  are  questions 
which  his  letters  leave  unsolved;  but  he  must  have  been  a 
constant  visitor  at  the  Palais  Royal  if  the  hours  that  he  spent 
in  it  bore  any  relation  to  the  number  of  pages  which  it  occu- 
pies in  his  correspondence.  The  place  was  indeed  well  worth 
a  careful  study ;  for  in  1830  it  was  not  the  orderly  and  decent 
bazaar  of  the  Second  Empire,  but  was  still  that  compound  of 
Parnassus  and  Bohemia  which  is  painted  in  vivid  colors  in  the 
"Grand  Homme  de  Provence"  of  Balzac — still  the  paradise 
of  such  ineffable  rascals  as  Diderot  has  drawn,  with  terrible 
fidelity,  in  his  "  Neveu  de  Rameau." 

"  If  I  were  to  select  the  spot  in  all  the  earth  in  which  the 
good  and  evil  of  civilization  are  most  strikingly  exhibited,  in 
which  the  arts  of  life  are  carried  to  the  highest  perfection,  and 
in  which  all  pleasures,  high  and  low,  intellectual  and  sensual, 
are  collected  in  the  smallest  space,  I  should  certainly  choose 
the  Palais  Royal.  It  is  the  Covent  Garden  Piazza,  the  Pater- 
noster Row,  the  Vauxhall,  the  Albion  Tavern,  the  Burlington 
Arcade,  the  Crockford's,  the  Finish,  the  Athenaeum  of  Paris, 
all  in  one.  Even  now,  when  the  first  dazzling  effect  has  pass- 
ed off,  I  never  traverse  it  without  feeling  bewildered  by  its 
magnificent  variety.  As  a  great  capital  is  a  country  in  minia- 
ture, so  the  Palais  Royal  is  a  capital  in  miniature — an  abstract 
and  epitome  of  a  vast  community,  exhibiting  at  a  glance  the 
politeness  which  adorns  its  higher  ranks,  the  coarseness  of  its 
populace,  and  the  vices  and  the  misery  which  lie  underneath 
its  brilliant  exterior.  Every  thing  is  there,  and  every  body. 
Statesmen,  wits,  philosophers,  beauties,  dandies,  blacklegs,  ad- 
venturers, artists,  idlers,  the  king  and  his  court,  beggars  with 
matches  crying  for  charity,  wretched  creatures  dying  of  dis- 
ease and  want  in  garrets.  There  is  no  condition  of  life  which 
is  not  to  be  found  in  this  gorgeous  and  fantastic  fairy-land." 

He  had  excellent  opportunities  for  seeing  behind  the  scenes 
during  the  closing  acts  of .  the  great  drama  that  was  being 
played  out  through  those  summer  months.  The  Due  de 
Broglie,  then  prime  minister,  treated  him  with  marked  atten- 


1830-'32.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  157 

tion  both  as  an  Englishman  of  distinction  and  as  his  father's 
son.  He  was  much  in  the  Chamber  of  Deputies,  and  witness- 
ed that  strange  and  pathetic  historical  revival  when,  after  an 
interval  of  forty  such  years  as  mankind  had  never  known  be- 
fore, the  aged  La  Fayette  again  stood  forth  in  the  character  of 
a  disinterested  dictator  between  the  hostile  classes  of  his  fel- 
low-countrymen. 

"  De  La  Fayette  is  so  overwhelmed  with  work  that  I  scarce- 
ly knew  how  to  deliver  even  Brougham's  letter,  which  was  a 
letter  of  business,  and  should  have  thought  it  absurd  to  send 
him  Mackintosh's,  which  was  a  mere  letter  of  introduction.  I 
fell  in  with  an  English  acquaintance  who  told  me  that  he  had 
an  appointment  with  La  Fayette,  and  who  undertook  to  deliv- 
er them  both.  I  accepted  his  offer,  for  if  I  had  left  them 
with  the  porter,  ten  to  one  they  would  never  have  been  open- 
ed. I  hear  that  hundreds  of  letters  are  lying  in  the  lodge  of 
the  hotel.  Every  Wednesday  morning,  from  nine  to  eleven, 
La  Fayette  gives  audience  to  any  body  who  wishes  to  speak 
with  him ;  but  about  ten  thousand  people  attend  on  these  oc- 
casions, and  fill  not  only  the  house,  but  all  the  court-yard  and 
half  the  street.  La  Fayette  is  commander-in-chief  of  the  Na- 
tional Guard  of  France.  The  number  of  these  troops  in  Paris 
alone  is  upward  of  forty  thousand.  The  Government  finds  a 
musket  and  bayonet ;  but  the  uniform,  which  costs  about  ten 
napoleons,  the  soldiers  provide  themselves.  All  the  shop- 
keepers are  enrolled,  and  I  can  not  sufficiently  admire  their 
patriotism.  My  landlord,  Meurice,  a  man  who,  I  suppose,  has 
realized  a  million  francs  or  more,  is  up  one  night  in  four  with 
his  firelock,  doing  the  duty  of  a  common  watchman. 

"  There  is,  however,  something  to  be  said  as  an  explanation 
of  the  zeal  with  which  the  bourgeoisie  give  their  time  and 
money  to  the  public.  The  army  received  so  painful  a  humili- 
ation in  the  battles  of  July  that  it  is  by  no  means  inclined  to 
serve  the  new  system  faithfully.  The  rabble  behaved  nobly 
during  the  conflict,  and  have  since  shown  rare  humanity  and 
moderation.  Yet  those  who  remember  the  former  Revolution 
feel  an  extreme  dread  of  the  ascendency  of  mere  multitude ; 
and  there  have  been  signs,  trifling  in  themselves,  but  such 


158  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  iv. 

as  may  naturally  alarm  people  of  property.  Workmen  have 
struck.  Machinery  has  been  attacked.  Inflammatory  hand- 
bills have  appeared  upon  the  walls.  At  present  all  is  quiet ; 
but  the  thing  may  happen,  particularly  if  Polignac  and  Pey- 
ronnet  should  not  be  put  to  death.  The  Peers  wish  to  save 
them.  The  lower  orders,  who  have  had  five  or  six  thousand 
of  their  friends  and  kinsmen  butchered  by  the  frantic  wicked- 
ness of  these  men,  will  hardly  submit.  '  Eh !  eh !'  said  a  fierce 
old  soldier  of  Napoleon  to  me  the  other  day.  '  L'on  dit  qu'ils 
seront  de'porte's ;  mais  ne  m'en  parle  pas.  Non !  non !  Cou- 
pez  leur  le  cou.  Sacre" !  Qa  ne  passera  pas  comnie  ca.' 

"This  long  political  digression  will  explain  to  you  why 
Monsieur  de  La  Fayette  is  so  busy.  He  has  more  to  do  than 
all  the  ministers  together.  However,  my  letters  were  pre- 
sented, and  he  said  to  my  friend  that  he  had  a  soiree  every 
Tuesday,  and  should  be  most  happy  to  see  me  there.  I  drove 
to  his  house  yesterday  night.  Of  the  interest  which  the  com- 
mon Parisians  take  in  politics  you  may  judge  by  this :  I  told 
my  driver  to  wait  for  me,  and  asked  his  number.  'Ah !  mon- 
sieur, c'est  un  beau  numero.  C'est  un  brave  numero.  C'est 
221.'  You  may  remember  that  the  number  of  Deputies  who 
voted  the  intrepid  address  to  Charles  the  Tenth  which  irrita- 
ted him  into  his  absurd  coup  d'etat  was  221.  I  walked  into 
the  hotel  through  a  crowd  of  uniforms,  and  found  the  re- 
ception-rooms as  full  as  they  could  hold.  I  was  not  able  to 
make  my  way  to  La  Fayette,  but  I  was  glad  to  see  him.  He 
looks  like  the  brave,  honest,  simple,  good-natured  man  that 
he  is." 

Besides  what  is  quoted  above,  there  is  very  little  of  general 
interest  in  these  journal  letters ;  and  their  publication  would 
serve  no  purpose  except  that  of  informing  the  present  leader 
of  the  monarchists  what  his  father  had  for  breakfast  and 
dinner  during  a  week  of  1830,  and  of  enabling  him  to  trace 
changes  in  the  disposition  of  the  furniture  of  the  De  Broglie 
Hotel.  "  I  believe,"  writes  Macaulay,  "  that  I  have  given  the 
inventory  of  every  article  in  the  duke's  salon.  You  will  think 
that  I  have  some  intention  of  turning  upholsterer." 
*  His  thoughts  and  observations  on  weightier  matters  he  kept 


1830-'32.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  159 

for  an  article  on  "  The  State  of  Parties  in  France,"  which  he 
intended  to  provide  for  the  October  number  of  the  Edinburgh 
Review.  While  he  was  still  at  Paris,  this  arrangement  was 
rescinded  by  Mr.  Napier,  in  compliance  with  the  wish,  or  the 
whim,  of  Brougham  ;  and  Macaulay's  surprise  and  annoyance 
vented  themselves  in  a  burst  of  indignant  rhetoric*  strong 
enough  to  have  upset  a  government.  His  wrath,  or  that  part 
of  it,  at  least,  which  was  directed  against  the  editor,  did  not 
survive  an  interchange  of  letters ;  and  he  at  once  set  to  work 
upon  turning  his  material  into  the  shape  of  a  volume  for  the 
series  of  Lardner's  "  Cabinet  Cyclopaedia,"  under  the  title  of 
"  The  History  of  France,  from  the  Restoration  of  the  Bourbons 
to  the  Accession  of  Louis  Philippe."  Ten  years  ago,  proofs  of 
the  first  eighty -eight  pages  were  found  in  Messrs.  Spottis- 
woode's  printing-office,  with  a  note  on  the  margin  to  the  effect 
that  most  of  the  type  was  broken  up  before  the  sheets  had 
been  pulled.  The  task,  as  far  as  it  went,  was  faithfully  per- 
formed ;  but  the  author  soon  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  he 
might  find  a  more  profitable  investment  for  his  labor.  "With 
his  head  full  of  Reform,  Macaulay  was  loath  to  spend  in  epito- 
mizing history  the  time  and  energy  that  would  be  better  em- 
ployed in  helping  to  make  it. 

When  the  new  Parliament  met  on  the  26th  of  October, 
it  was  already  evident  that  the  Government  was  doomed. 
Where  the  elections  were  open,  Reform  had  carried  the  day. 
Brougham  was  returned  for  Yorkshire,  a  constituency  of  tried 
independence,  which  before  1832  seldom  failed  to  secure  the 
triumph  of  a  cause  into  whose  scale  it  had  thrown  its  enor- 
mous weight.  The  counties  had  declared  for  the  Whigs  by  a 
majority  of  eight  to  five,  and  the  great  cities  by  a  majority  of 
eight  to  one.  Of  the  close  boroughs  in  Tory  hands  many 
were  held  by  men  who  had  not  forgotten  Catholic  Emancipa- 
tion, and  who  did  not  mean  to  pardon  their  leaders  until  they 
had  ceased  to  be  ministers. 

In  the  debate  on  the  Address,  the  Duke  of  Wellington  ut- 
tered his  famous  declaration  that  the  Legislature  possessed, 

*  Sec,  on  page  183  the  letter  to  Mr.  Napier,  of  September  IGtb,  1831. 


160  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  iv. 

and  deserved  to  possess,  the  full  and  entire  confidence  of  the 
country ;  that  its  existing  constitution  was  not  only  practical- 
ly efficient,  but  theoretically  admirable ;  and  that  if  he  himself 
had  to  frame  a  system  of  representation,  he  should  do  his  best 
to  imitate  so  excellent  a  model,  though  he  admitted  that  the 
nature  of  man  was  incapable  at  a  single  effort  of  attaining  to 
such  mature  perfection.  His  bewildered  colleagues  could  only 
assert  in  excuse  that  their  chief  was  deaf,  and  wish  that  every 
body  else  had  been  deaf  too.  The  second  ministerial  feat  was 
of  a  piece  with  the  first.  Their  majesties  had  accepted  an  in- 
vitation to  dine  at  Guildhall  on  the  9th  of  November.  The 
lord  mayor  elect  informed  the  Home  Office  that  there  was 
danger  of  riot,  and  the  premier  (who  could  not  be  got  to  see 
that  London  was  not  Paris  because  his  own  political  creed 
happened  to  be  much  the  same  as  Polignac's)  advised  the 
king  to  postpone  his  visit  to  the  City,  and  actually  talked  of 
putting  Lombard  Street  and  Cheapside  in  military  occupation. 
Such  a  step  taken  at  such  a  time  by  such  a  man  had  its  inev- 
itable result.  Consols,  which  the  duke's  speech  on  the  Ad- 
dress had  brought  from  84  to  80,  fell  to  77  in  an  hour  and  a 
half :  jewelers  and  silversmiths  sent  their  goods  to  the  banks : 
merchants  armed  their  clerks  and  barricaded  their  warehouses : 
and  when  the  panic  subsided,  fear  only  gave  place  to  the 
shame  and  annoyance  which  a  loyal  people,  whose  loyalty  was 
at  that  moment  more  active  than  ever,  experienced  from  the 
reflection  that  all  Europe  was  discussing  the  reasons  why  our 
king  could  not  venture  to  dine  in  public  with  the  chief  mag- 
istrate of  his  own  capital.  A  strong  minister,  who  sends  the 
funds  down  seven  per  cent,  in  as  many  days,  is  an  anomaly 
that  no  nation  will  consent  to  tolerate ;  the  members  of  the 
Cabinet  looked  forward  with  consternation  to  a  scheme  of  He- 
form  which,  with  the  approbation  of  his  party,  Brougham  had 
undertaken  to  introduce  on  the  15th  of  November;  and  when, 
within  twenty -four  hours  of  the  dreaded  debate,  they  were  de- 
feated on  a  motion  for  a  committee  on  the  civil  list,  their  re- 
lief at  having  obtained  an  excuse  for  retiring  at  least  equaled 
that  which  the  country  felt  at  getting  rid  of  them. 

Earl  Grey  came  in,  saying  (and  meaning  what  he  said)  that 


1830-'32.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  161 

the  principles  on  which  he  stood  were  "  amelioration  of  abuses, 
promotion  of  economy,  and  the  ^ndeavor  to  preserve  peace 
consistently  with  the  honor  of  the  country."  Brougham,  who 
was  very  sore  at  having  been  forced  to  postpone  his  notice  on 
Reform  on  account  of  the  ministerial  crisis,  had  gratuitously 
informed  the  House  of  Commons  on  two  successive  days  that 
he  had  no  intention  of  taking  office.  A  week  later  on,  he 
accepted  the  chancellorship  with  an  inconsistency  which  his 
friends  readily  forgave,  for  they  knew  that,  when  he  resolved 
to  join  the  Cabinet,  he  was  thinking  more  of  his  party  than 
of  himself  ;  a  consideration  that  naturally  enough  only  sharp- 
ened the  relish  with  which  his  adversaries  pounced  upon  this 
first  of  his  innumerable  scrapes.  When  the  new  writ  for 
Yorkshire  was  moved,  Croker  commented  sharply  on  the  po- 
sition in  which  the  chancellor  was  placed,  and  remarked  that 
he  had  often  heard  Brougham  declare  that  "  the  characters  of 
public  men  formed  part  of  the  wealth  of  England  " — a  remi- 
niscence which  was  delivered  with  as  much  gravity  and  unc- 
tion as  if  it  had  been  Mackintosh  discoursing  on  Romilly. 
Unfortunately  for  himself,  Croker  ruined  his  case  by  refer- 
ring to  a  private  conversation,  an  error  which  the  House  of 
Commons  always  takes  at  least  an  evening  to  forgive;  and 
Macaulay  had  his  audience  with  him  as  he  vindicated  the  ab- 
sent orator  with  a  generous  warmth  which  at  length  carried 
him  so  far  that  he  was  interrupted  by  a  call  to  order  from  the 
chair :  "  The  noble  lord  had  but  a  few  days  for  deliberation, 
and  that  at  a  time  when  great  agitation  prevailed,  and  when 
the  country  required  a  strong  and  efficient  ministry  to  conduct 
the  government  of  the  state.  At  such  a  period  a  few  days 
are  as  momentous  as  months  would  be  at  another  period.  It 
is  not  by  the  clock  that  we  should  measure  the  importance  of 
the  changes  that  might  take  place  during  such  an  interval.  I 
owe  no  allegiance  to  the  noble  lord  who  has  been  transferred 
to  another  place ;  but,  as  a  member  of  this  House,  I  can  not 
banish  from  my  memory  the  extraordinary  eloquence  of  that 
noble  person  within  these  walls — an  eloquence  which  has  left 
nothing  equal  to  it  behind :  and  when  I  behold  the  departure 
of  the  great  man  from  among  us,  and  when  I  see  the  place 
YOL.  L— 11 


162  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  iv. 

in  which  he  sat,  and  from  which  he  has  so  often  astonished  us 
by  the  mighty  powers  of  his  mind,  occupied  this  evening  by 
the  honorable  member  who  has  commenced  this  debate,  I  can 
not  express  the  feelings  and  emotions  to  which  such  circum- 
stances give  rise." 

Parliament  adjourned  over  Christmas,  and  on  the  1st  of 
March,  1831,  Lord  John  Russell  introduced  the  Reform  Bill 
amidst  breathless  silence,  which  was  at  length  broken  by  peals 
of  contemptuous  laughter  from  the  Opposition  benches  aS  he 
read  the  list  of  the  hundred  and  ten  boroughs  which  were 
condemned  to  partial  or  entire  disfranchisement.  Sir  Robert 
Inglis  led  the  attack  upon  a  measure  that  he  characterized  as 
revolution  in  the  guise  of  a  statute.  K^ext  morning,  as  Sir 
Robert  was  walking  into  town  over  Westminster  Bridge,  he 
told  his  companion  that  up  to  the  previous  night  he  had  been 
very  anxious,  but  that  his  fears  were  now  at  an  end,  inasmuch 
as  the  shock  caused  by  the  extravagance  of  the  ministerial 
proposals  would  infallibly  bring  the  country  to  its  senses.  On 
the  evening  of  that  day  Macaulay  made  the  first  of  his  Re- 
form speeches.  When  he  sat  down,  the  Speaker  sent  for  him, 
and  told  him  that,  in  all  his  prolonged  experience,  he  had  nev- 
er seen  the  House  in  such  a  state  of  excitement.  Even  at  this 
distance  of  time,  it  is  impossible  to  read  aloud  the  last  thirty 
sentences  without  an  emotion  which  suggests  to  the  mind 
what  must  have  been  their  effect  when  declaimed  by  one  who 
felt  every  word  that  he  spoke,  in  the  midst  of  an  assembly 
agitated  by  hopes  and  apprehensions  such  as  living  men  have 
never  known  or  have  long  forgotten.  Sir  Thomas  Denman, 
who  rose  later  on  in  the  discussion,  said,  with  universal  accept- 
ance, that  the  orator's  words  remained  tingling  in  the  ears  of 
all  who  heard  them,  and  would  last  in  their  memories  as  long 
as  they  had  memories  to  employ.  That  sense  of  proprietor- 
ship in  an  effort  of  genius  which  the  House  of  Commons  is 
ever  ready  to  entertain  effaced  for  a  while  all  distinctions  of 
party.  Portions  of  the  speech,  said  Sir  Robert  Peel, "  were  as 
beautiful  as  any  thing  I  have  ever  heard  or  read.  It  remind- 
ed one  .of  the  old  times."  The  names  of  Fox,  Burke,  and 
Canning  were  during  that  evening  in  every  body's  mouth; 


1830-'32.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  163 

and  Macaulay  overheard  with  delight  a  knot  of  old  members 
illustrating  their  criticisms  by  recollections  of  Lord  Plunket. 
He  had  reason  to  be  pleased ;  for  he  had  been  thought  worthy 
of  the  compliment  which  the  judgment  of  Parliament  reserves 
for  a  supreme  occasion.  In  1866,  on  the  second  reading  of 
the  Franchise  Bill,  when  the  crowning  oration  of  that  mem- 
orable debate  had  come  to  its  close  amidst  a  tempest  of  ap- 
plause, one  or  two  veterans  of  the  lobby,  forgetting  Macau- 
lay  on  Reform — forgetting,  it  may  be,  Mr.  Gladstone  himself 
on  the  Conservative  Budget  of  1852 — pronounced,  amidst  the 
willing  assent  of  a  younger  generation,  that  there  had  been 
nothing  like  it  since  Plunket. 

The  unequivocal  success  of  the  first  speech  into  which  he 
had  thrown  his  full  power  decided  for  some  time  to  come  the 
tenor  of  Macaulay's  career.  During  the  next  three  years  he 
devoted  himself  to  Parliament,  rivaling  Stanley  in  debate,  and 
Hume  in  the  regularity  of  his  attendance.  He  entered  with 
zest  into  the  animated  and  many-sided  life  of  the  House  of 
Commons,  of  which  so  few  traces  can  ordinarily  be  detected 
in  what  goes  by  the  name  of  political  literature.  The  biogra- 
phers of  a  distinguished  statesman  too  often  seem  to  have  for- 
gotten that  the  subject  of  their  labors  passed  the  best  part  of 
his  waking  hours  during  the  half  of  every  year  in  a  society  of 
a  special  and  deeply  marked  character,  the  leading  traits  of 
which  are,  at  least,  as  well  worth  recording  as  the  fashionable 
or  diplomatic  gossip  that  fills  so  many  volumes  of  memoirs 
and  correspondence.  Macaulay's  letters  sufficiently  indicate 
how  thoroughly  he  enjoyed  the  ease,  the  freedom,  the  hearty 
good-fellowship,  that  reign  within  the  precincts  of  our  nation- 
al senate ;  and  how  entirely  he  recognized  that  spirit  of  noble 
equality,  so  prevalent  among  its  members,  which  takes  little 
or  no  account  of  wealth,  or  title,  or,  indeed,  of  reputation  won 
in  other  fields,  but  which  ranks  a  man  according  as  the  value 
of  his  words,  and  the  weight  of  his  influence,  bear  the  test  of 
a  standard  which  is  essentially  its  own. 

In  February,  1831,  he  writes  to  "Whewell :  "  I  am  impatient 
for  Praed's  debut.  The  House  of  Commons  is  a  place  in 
which  I  would  not  promise  success  to  any  man.  I  have  great 


164  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  iv. 

doubts  even  about  Jeffrey.  It  is  the  most  peculiar  audience 
in  the  world.  I  should  say  that  a  man's  being  a  good  writer, 
a  good  orator  at  the  bar,  a  good  mob-orator,  or  a  good  orator 
in  debating  clubs,  was  rather  a  reason  for  expecting  him  to 
fail  than  for  expecting  him  to  succeed  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons. A  place  where  Walpole  succeeded  and  Addison  failed ; 
where  Dundas  succeeded  and  Burke  failed ;  where  Peel  now 
succeeds  and  where  Mackintosh  fails ;  where  Erskine  and  Scar- 
lett were  dinner-bells ;  where  Lawrence  and  Jekyll,  the  two 
wittiest  men,  or  nearly  so,  of  their  time,  were  thought  bores, 
is  surely  a  very  strange  place.  And  yet  I  feel  the  whole 
character  of  the  place  growing  upon  me.  I  begin  to  like  what 
others  about  me  like,  and  to  disapprove  what  they  disapprove. 
Canning  used  to  say  that  the  House,  as  a  body,  had  better 
taste  than  the  man  of  best  taste  in  it,  and  I  am  very  much  in- 
clined to  think  that  Canning  was  right." 

The  readers  of  Macaulay's  letters  will,  from  time  to  time, 
find  reason  to  wish  that  the  young  Whig  of  1830  had  more 
frequently  practiced  that  studied  respect  for  political  oppo- 
nents which  now  does  so  much  to  correct  the  intolerance  of 
party  among  men  who  can  be  adversaries  without  ceasing  to 
regard  each  other  as  colleagues.  But  that  honorable  sentiment 
was  the  growth  of  later  days ;  and,  at  an  epoch  when  the  sys- 
tem of  the  past  and  the  system  of  the  future  were  night  after 
night  in  deadly  wrestle  on  the  floor  of  St.  Stephen's,  the  com- 
batants were  apt  to  keep  their  kindliness,  and  even  their  court- 
esies, for  those  with  whom  they  stood  shoulder  to  shoulder 
in  the  fray.  Politicians,  Conservative  and  Liberal  alike,  who 
were  themselves  young  during  the  sessions  of  1866  and  1867, 
and  who  can  recall  the  sensations  evoked  by  a  contest  of  which 
the  issues  were  far  less  grave  and  the  passions  less  strong  than 
of  yore,  will  make  allowances  for  one  who,  with  the  imagina- 
tion of  a  poet  and  the  temperament  of  an  orator,  at  thirty 
years  old  was  sent  straight  into  the  thickest  of  the  tumult 
which  then  raged  round  the  standard  of  Reform,  and  will  ex- 
cuse him  for  having  borne  himself  in  that  battle  of  giants  as  a 
determined  and  a  fiery  partisan. 

If  to  live  intensely  be  to  live  happily,  Macaulay  had  an  en- 


1830-'32.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  165 

viable  lot  during  those  stirring  years ;  and  if  the  old  song- 
writers had  reason  on  their  side  when  they  celebrated  the 
charms  of  a  light  purse,  he  certainly  possessed  that  element  of 
felicity.  Among  the  earliest  economical  reforms  undertaken 
by  the  new  Government  was  a  searching  revision  of  our  bank- 
ruptcy jurisdiction,  in  the  course  of  which  his  commissioner- 
ship  was  swept  away  without  leaving  him  a  penny  of  compen- 
sation. "  I  voted  for  the  Bankruptcy  Court  Bill,"  he  said,  in 
answer  to  an  inquisitive  constituent.  "  There  were  points  in 
that  bill  of  which  I  did  not  approve,  and  I  only  refrained  from 
stating  those  points  because  an  office  of  my  own  was  at  stake." 
"When  this  source  fell  dry  he  was  for  a  while  a  poor  man ;  for 
a  member  of  Parliament  who  has  others  to  think  of  besides 
himself  is  any  thing  but  rich  on  sixty  or  seventy  pounds  a 
quarter  as  the  produce  of  his  pen,  and  a  college  income  which 
has  only  a  few  more  months  to  run.  At  a  time  when  his 
Parliamentary  fame  stood  at  -its  highest  he  was  reduced  to 
sell  the  gold  medals  w^hich  he  had  gained  at  Cambridge  ;  but 
he  was  never  for  a  moment  in  debt ;  nor  did  he  publish  a 
line  prompted  by  any  lower  motive  than  the  inspiration  of 
his  political  faith  or  the  instinct  of  his  literary  genius.  He 
had  none  but  pleasant  recollections  connected  with  the  period 
when  his  fortunes  were  at  their  lowest.  From  the  secure 
prosperity  of  after-life  he  delighted  in  recalling  the  time  when, 
after  cheering  on  the  fierce  debate  for  twelve  or  fifteen  hours 
together,  he  would  walk  home  by  daylight  to  his  chambers, 
and  make  his  supper  on  a  cheese  which  was  a  present  from 
one  of  his  Wiltshire  constituents,  and  a  glass  of  the  audit  ale 
which  reminded  him  that  he  was  still  a  fellow  of  Trinity. 

"With  political  distinction  came  social  success  more  rapid 
and  more  substantial,  perhaps,  than  has  ever  been  achieved  by 
one  who  took  so  little  trouble  to  win  or  to  retain  it.  The  cir- 
cumstances of  the  time  were  all  in  his  favor.  Never  did  our 
higher  circles  present  so  much  that  would  attract  a  new-comer, 
and  never  was  there  more  readiness  to  admit  within  them  all 
who  brought  the  honorable  credentials  of  talent  and  celebrity. 
In  1831  the  exclusiveness  of  birth  was  passing  away,  and  the 
exclusiveness  of  fashion  had  not  set  in.  The  Whig  party,  dur- 


166  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  iv. 

ing  its  long  period  of  depression,  had  been  drawn  together  by 
the  bonds  of  common  hopes,  and  endeavors,  and  disappoint- 
ments ;  and  personal  reputation,  whether  literary,  political,  or 
forensic,  held  its  own  as  against  the  advantages  of  rank  and 
money  to  an  extent  that  was  never  .known  before  and  never 
since.  Macaulay  had  been  well  received  in  the  character  of 
an  Edinburgh  Reviewer,  and  his  first  great  speech  in  the 
House  of  Commons  at  once  opened  to  him  all  the  doors  in 
London  that  were  best  worth  entering.  Brought  up,  as  he  had 
been,  in  a  household  which  was  perhaps  the  strictest  and  the 
homeliest  among  a  set  of  families  whose  creed  it  was  to  live 
outside  the  world,  it  put  his  strength  of  mind  to  the  test  when 
he  found  himself  courted  and  observed  by  the  most  distin- 
guished and  the  most  formidable  personages  of  the  day.  Lady 
Holland  listened  to  him  with  unwonted  deference,  and  scolded 
him  with  a  circumspection  that  was  in  itself  a  compliment. 
Rogers  spoke  of  him  with  friendliness  and  to  him  with  posi- 
tive affection,  and  gave  him  the  last  proof  of  his  esteem  and 
admiration  by  asking  him  to  name  the  morning  for  a  break- 
fast-party. He  was  treated  with  almost  fatherly  kindness  by 
the  able  and  worthy  man  wrho  is  still  remembered  by  the  name 
of  Conversation  Sharp.  Indeed,  his  deference  for  the  feelings 
of  all  whom  he  liked  and  respected,  which  an  experienced  ob- 
server could  detect  beneath  the  eagerness  of  his  manner  and 
the  volubility  of  his  talk,  made  him  a  favorite  among  those 
of  a  generation  above  his  own.  He  bore  his  honors  quietly, 
and  enjoyed  them  with  the  natural  and  hearty  pleasure  of  a 
man  who  has  a  taste  for  society,  but  whose  ambitions  lie  else- 
where. For  the  space  of  three  seasons  he  dined  out  almost 
nightly,  and  spent  many  of  his  Sundays  in  those  suburban 
residences  which,  as  regards  the  company  and  the  way  of  liv- 
ing, are  little  else  than  sections  of  London  removed  into  a 
purer  air. 

Before  very  long  his  habits  and  tastes  began  to  incline  in 
the  direction  of  domesticity,  and  even  of  seclusion :  and,  in- 
deed, at  every  period  of  his  life  he  would  gladly  desert  the 
haunts  of  those  whom  Pope  and  his  contemporaries  used  to 
term  "  the  great,"  to  seek  the  cheerful  and  cultured  simplicity 


1830-'32.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  167 

of  his  home,  or  the  conversation  of  that  one  friend  who  had  a 
share  in  the  familiar  confidence  which  Macaulay  otherwise  re- 
served for  his  nearest  relatives.  This  was  Mr.  Thomas  Flow- 
er Ellis,  whose  reports  of  the  proceedings  in  King's  Bench, 
extending  over  a  whole  generation,  have  established  and  per- 
petuated his  name  as  that  of  an  acute  and  industrious  lawyer. 
He  was  older  than  Macaulay  by  four  years.  Though  both 
fellows  of  the  same  college,  they  missed  each  other  at  the  uni- 
versity, and  it  was  not  until  1827,  on  the  northern  circuit,  that 
their  acquaintance  began.  "  Macaulay  has  joined,"  writes  Mr. 
Ellis :  "  an  amusing  person ;  somewhat  boyish  in  his  manner, 
but  very  original."  The  young  barristers  had  in  common  an 
insatiable  love  of  the  classics ;  and  similarity  of  character,  not 
very  perceptible  on  the  surface,  soon  brought  about  an  inti- 
macy which  ripened  into  an  attachment  as  important  to  the 
happiness  of  both  concerned  as  ever  united  two  men  through 
every  stage  of  life  and  vicissitude  of  fortune.  Mr.  Ellis  had 
married  early,  but  in  1839  he  lost  his  wife ;  and  Macaulay's 
helpful  and  heart-felt  participation  in  his  great  sorrow  riveted 
the  links  of  a  chain  that  was  already  indissoluble.  The  let- 
ters contained  in  these  volumes  will  tell,  better  than  the  words 
of  any  third  person,  what  were  the  points  of  sympathy  be- 
tween the  two  companions,  and  in  what  manner  they  lived  to- 
gether till  the  end  came.  Mr.  Ellis  survived  his  friend  little 
more  than  a  year ;  not  complaining  or  lamenting,  but  going 
about  his  work  like  a  man  from  whose  day  the  light  had  de- 
parted. 

Brief  and  rare  were  the  vacations  of  the  most  hard-worked 
Parliament  that  had  sat  since  the  times  of  Pym  and  Hamp- 
den.  In  the  late  autumn  of  1831,  the  defeat  of  the  Reform 
Bill  in  the  House  of  Lords  delivered  over  the  country  to  agi- 
tation, resentment,  and  alarm,  and  gave  a  short  holiday  to 
public  men  who  were  not  ministers,  magistrates,  or  officers  in 
the  yeomanry.  Hannah  and  Margaret  Macaulay  accompanied 
their  brother  on  a  visit  to  Cambridge,  where  they  met  with 
the  welcome  which  young  masters  of  arts  delight  in  provid- 
ing for  the  sisters  of  a  comrade  of  whom  they  are  fond  and 
proud. 


168  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.IV. 

"  On  the  evening  that  we  arrived,"  says  Lady  Trevelyan, 
"  we  met  at  dinner  Whewell,  Sedgwick,  Airy,  and  Thirlwall ; 
and  how  pleasant  they  were,  and  how  much  they  made  of  us, 
two  happy  girls,  who  were  never  tired  of  seeing  and  hearing 
and  admiring!*  We  breakfasted,  lunched,  and  dined  with 
one  or  the  other  of  the  set  during  our  stay,  and  walked  about 
the  colleges  all  day  with  the  whole  train.  Whewell  was  then 
tutor :  rougher,  but  less  pompous  and  much  more  agreeable 
than  in  after-years,  though  I  do  not  think  that  he  ever  cor- 
dially liked  your  uncle.  We  then  went  on  to  Oxford,  which, 
from  knowing  no  one  there,  seemed  terribly  dull  to  us  by 
comparison  with  Cambridge,  and  we  rejoiced  our  brother's 
heart  by  sighing  after  Trinity." 

During  the  first  half  of  his  life,  Macaulay  spent  months  of 
every  year  at  the  seat  of  his  uncle,  Mr.  Babington,  who  kept 
open  house  for  his  nephews  and  nieces  throughout  the  sum- 
mer and  autumn.  Rothley  Temple,  which  lies  in  a  valley  be- 
yond the  first  ridge  that  separates  the  flat,  unattractive  coun- 
try immediately  round  Leicester  from  the  wild  and  beautiful 
scenery  of  Charnwood  Forest,  is  well  worth  visiting  as  a  sin- 
gularly unaltered  specimen  of  an  old  English  home.  The 
stately  trees ;  the  grounds,  half  park  and  half  meadow ;  the 
cattle  grazing  up  to  the  very  windows ;  the  hall,  with  its  stone 
pavement  rather  below  than  above  the  level  of  the  soil,  hung 
with  armor  rude  and  rusty  enough  to  dispel  the  suspicion  of 
its  having  passed  through  a  collector's  hands;  the  low  ceil- 
ings ;  the  dark  oak  wainscot,  carved  after  primitive  designs, 
that  covered  every  inch  of  wall  in  bedroom  and  corridor ; 
the  general  air  which  the  whole  interior  presented  of  having 
been  put  to  rights  at  the  date  of  the  Armada  and  left  alone 
ever  since — all  this  antiquity  contrasted  quaintly,  but  prettily 
enough,  with  the  youth  and  gayety  that  lighted  up  every  cor- 
ner of  the  ever-crowded  though  comfortable  mansion.  In  wet 

*  A  reminiscence  from  that  week  of  refined  and  genial  hospitality  sur- 
vives in  the  "  Essay  on  Madame  D'Arblay."  The  reception  which  Miss  Bur- 
ney  would  have  enjoyed  at  Oxford,  if  she  had  visited  it  otherwise  than  as 
an  attendant  on  royalty,  is  sketched  off  with  all  the  writer's  wonted  spirit, 
and  more  than  his  wonted  grace. 


1830-'32.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  169 

weather  there  was  always  a  merry  group  sitting  on  the  stair- 
case or  marching  up  and  down  the  gallery;  and  wherever 
the  noise  and  fun  were  most  abundant,  wherever  there  were  to 
be  heard  the  loudest  laughter  and  the  most  vehement  expostu- 
lation, Macaulay  was  the  centre  of  a  circle  which  was  exclaim- 
ing at  the  levity  of  his  remarks  about  the  Blessed  Martyr ; 
disputing  with  him  on  the  comparative  merits  of  Pascal,  Ra- 
cine, Corneille,  Moliere,  and  Boileau ;  or  checking  him  as  he 
attempted  to  justify  his  godparents  by  running  off  a  list  of 
all  the  famous  Thomases  in  history.  The  place  is  full  of  his 
memories.  His  favorite  walk  was  a  mile  of  field -road  and 
lane  which  leads  from  the  house  to  a  lodge  on  the  highway ; 
and  his  favorite  point  of  view  in  that  walk  was  a  slight  accliv- 
ity whence  the  traveler  from  Leicester  catches  his  first  sight 
of  Rothley  Temple,  with  its  background  of  hill  and  green- 
wood. He  is  remembered  as  sitting  at  the  window  in  the 
hall,  reading  Dante  to  himself,  or  translating  it  aloud  as  long 
as  any  listener  cared  to  remain  within  ear-shot.  He  occupied, 
by  choice,  a  very  small  chamber  on  the  ground-floor,  through 
the  window  of  which  he  could  escape  unobserved  while  aft- 
ernoon callers  were  on  their  way  between  the  front  door  and 
the  drawing-room.  On  such  occasions  he  would  take  refuge 
in  a  boat  moored  under  the  shade  of  some  fine  oaks  which 
still  exist,  though  the  ornamental  water  on  whose  bank  they 
stood  has  since  been  converted  into  dry  land. 

A  journal  kept  at  intervals  by  Margaret  Macaulay,  some  ex- 
tracts from  which  have  here  been  arranged  in  the  form  of  a 
continuous  narrative,  affords  a  pleasant  and  faithful  picture  of 
her  brother's  home-life  during  the  years  1831  and  1832.  With 
an  artless  candor  from  which  his  reputation  will  not  suffer, 
she  relates  the  alternations  of  hope  and  disappointment  through 
which  the  young  people  passed  when  it  began  to  be  a  question 
whether  or  not  he  would  be  asked  to  join  the  Administration. 

"  I  think  I  was  about  twelve  when  I  first  became  very  fond  of  my  broth- 
er, and  from  that  time  my  affection  for  him  has  gone  on  increasing  during 
a  period  of  seven  years.  I  shall  never  forget  my  delight  and  enchantment 
when  I  first  found  that  he  seemed  to  like  talking  to  me.  His  manner  was 
very  flattering  to  such  a  child,  for  he  always  took  as  much  pains  to  amuse 


170  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  iv. 

me,  and  to  inform  me  on  any  thing  I  wished  to  know,  as  he  could  have 
done  to  the  greatest  person  in  the  land.  I  have  heard  him  express  great 
disgust  toward  those  people  who,  lively  and  agreeable  abroad,  are  a  dead- 
weight in  the  family  circle.  I  thiuk  the  remarkable  clearness  of  his  style 
proceeds  in  some  measure  from  the  habit  of  conversing  with  very  young 
people,  to  whom  he  has  a  great  deal  to  explain  and  impart. 

"  He  reads  his  works  to  us  in  the  manuscript,  and  when  we  find  fault, 
as  I  very  often  do,  with  his  being  too  severe  upon  people,  he  takes  it  with 
the  greatest  kindness,  and  often  alters  what  we  do  not  like.  I  hardly 
ever,  indeed,  met  with  a  sweeter  temper  than  his.  He  is  rather  hasty,  and 
when  he  has  not  time  for  an  instant's  thought  he  will  sometimes  return  a 
quick  answer,  for  which  he  will  be  sorry  the  moment  he  has  said  it.  But 
in  a  conversation  of  any  length,  though  it  may  be  on  subjects  that  touch 
him  very  nearly,  and  though  the  person  with  whom  he  converses  may  be 
very  provoking  and  extremely  out  of  temper,  I  never  saw  him  lose  his. 
He  never  uses  this  superiority,  as  some  do,  for  the  purpose  of  irritating  an- 
other still  more  by  coolness,  but  speaks  in  a  kind,  good-natured  manner, 
as  if  he  wished  to  bring  the  other  back  to  temper  without  appearing  to 
notice  that  he  had  lost  it. 

"He  at  one  time  took  a -very  punning  turn,  and  we  laid  a  wager  in 
books,  my  '  Mysteries  of  Udolpho '  against  his  '  German  Theatre,'  that  he 
could  not  make  two  hundred  puns  in  an  evening.  He  did  it,  however,  in 
two  hours,  and,  although  they  were  of  course  most  of  them  miserably  bad, 
yet  it  was  a  proof  of  great  quickness. 

"Saturday,  February  26th,  1831.  —  At  dinner  we  talked  of  the  Grants. 
Tom  said  he  had  found  Mr.  Robert  Grant  walking  about  in  the  lobbies  of 
the  House  of  Commons,  and  saying  that  he  wanted  somebody  to  defend 
his  place  in  the  Government,  which  he  heard  was  going  to  be  attacked. 
'  What  did  you  say  to  him  ?'  we  asked.  'Oh,  I  said  nothing ;  but,  if  they'll 
give  me  the  place,  I'll  defend  it.  When  I  am  judge  advocate,  I  promise 
you  that  I  will  not  go  about  asking  any  one  to  defend  me.' 

"After  dinner  we  played  at  capping  verses,  and  after  that  at  a  game  in 
which  one  of  the  party  thinks  of  something  for  the  others  to  guess  at. 
Tom  gave  the  slug  that  killed  Perceval,  the  lemon  that  Wilkes  squeezed 
for  Dr.  Johnson,  the  pork-chop  which  Thurtell  eat  after  he  had  murdered 
Weare,  and  Sir  Charles  Macarthy's  jaw,  which  was  sent  by  the  Ashantees 
as  a  present  to  George  the  Fourth. 

"  Some  one  mentioned  an  acquaintance  who  had  gone  to  the  West  In- 
dies, hoping  to  make  money,  but  had  only  ruined  the  complexions  of  his 
daughters.  Tom  said : 

Mr.  Walker  was  sent  to  Berbice 
By  the  greatest  of  statesmen  and  earls. 

He  went  to  bring  back  yellow  boys, 
But  he  only  brought  back  yellow  girls. 


1830-'32.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  171 

"  I  never  saw  any  thing  like  the  fun  and  humor  that  kindle  in  his  eye 
when  a  repartee  or  verso  is  working  in  his  brain. 

"March  3d,  1831. — Yesterday  morning  Hannah  and  I  walked  part  of  the 
way  to  his  chambers  with  Tom,  and,  as  we  separated,  I  remember  wishing 
him  good  luck  and  success  that  night.  He  wont  through  it  most  triumph- 
antly, and  called  down  upon  himself  admiration  enough  to  satisfy  even  his 
sister.  I  like  so  much  the  manner  in  which  he  receives  compliments.  He 
does  not  pretend  to  be  indifferent,  but  smiles  in  his  kind  and  animated 
way,  with '  I  am  sure  it  is  very  kind  of  you  to  say  so,'  or  something  of  that 
nature.  His  voice,  from  cold  and  overexcitement,  got  quite  into  a  scream 
toward  the  last  part.  A  person  told  him  that  he  had  not  heard  such  speak- 
ing since  Fox.  '  You  have  not  heard  such  screaming  since  Fox,'  he  said. 

"March  24<ft,  1831. — By  Tom's  account,  there  never  was  such  a  scene  of 
agitation  as  the  House  of  Commons  presented  at  the  passing  of  the  second 
reading  of  the  Reform  Bill  the  day  before  yesterday,  or  rather  yesterday, 
for  they  did  not  divide  till  three  or  four  in  the  morning.  When  dear  Tom 
came  the  next  day  he  was  still  very  much  excited,  which  J  found  to  my 
cost,  for  when  I  went  out  to  walk  with  him,  he  walked  so  very  fast  that  I 
could  scarcely  keep  up  with  him  at  all.  With  sparkling  eyes  he  described 
the  whole  scene  of  the  preceding  evening  in  the  most  graphic  manner. 

'"I  suppose  the  ministers  are  all  in  high  spirits/  said  mamma.  ' In 
spirits,  ma'am  ?  I'm  sure  I  don't  know.  In  bed,  I'll  answer  for  it.'  Mam- 
ma asked  him  for  franks,  that  she  might  send  his  speech  to  a  lady*  who, 
though  of  high  Tory  principles,  is  very  fond  of  Tom,  and  has  left  him  in 
her  will  her  valuable  library.  '  Oh  no,'  he  said, '  don't  send  it.  If  you  do, 
she'll'  cut  me  off  with  a  prayer-book.' 

"  Tom  is  very  much  improved  in  his  appearance  during  the  last  two  or 
three  years.  His  figure  is  not  so  bad  for  a  man  of  thirty  as  for  a  man  of 
twenty-two.  He  dresses  better,  and  his  manners,  from  seeing  a  great  deal 
of  society,  are  very  much  improved.  When  silent  and  occupied  in  thought, 
walking  up  and  down  the  room,  as  he  always  does,  his  hands  clenched,  and 
muscles  working  with  the  intense  exertion  of  his  mind,  strangers  would 
think  his  countenance  stern;  but  I  remember  a  writing-master  of  ours, 
when  Tom  had  come  into  the  room  and  left  it  again,  saying, '  Ladies,  your 
brother  looks  like  a  lump  of  good  humor !' 

"March  30<A,  1831. — Tom  has  just  left  me,  after  a  very  interesting  con- 
versation. He  spoke  of  his  extreme  idleness.  He  said :  '  I  never  knew 
such  an  idle  man  as  I  am.  When  I  go  in  to  Empson  or  Ellis  his  tables 
are  always  covered  with  books  and  papers.  I  can  not  stick  at  any  thing 
for  above  a  day  or  two.  I  mustered  industry  enough  to  teach  myself  Ital- 
ian. I  wish  to  speak  Spanish.  I  know  I  could  master  the  difficulties  in 
a  week,  and  read  any  book  in  the  language  at  the  end  of  a  month,  but  I 

*  This  lady  was  Mrs.  Hannah  More. 


172  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  iv. 

have  not  the  courage  to  attempt  it.  If  there  had  not  been  really  some- 
thing in  me,  idleness  would  have  ruined  me.' 

"I  said  that  I  was  surprised  at  the  great  accuracy  of  his  information, 
considering  how  desultory  his  reading  had  been.  'My  accuracy  as  to 
facts,'  he  said, '  I  owe  to  a  cause  which  many  men  would  not  confess.  It 
is  due  to  my  love  of  castle-building.  The  past  is,  in  my  mind,  soon  con- 
structed into  a  romance.'  He  then  went  on  to  describe  the  way  in  which 
from  his  childhood  his  imagination  had  been  filled  by  the  study  of  history. 
'  With  a  person  of  my  turn,'  he  said, '  the  minute  touches  are  of  as  great 
interest,  and  perhaps  greater,  than  the  most  important  events.  Spending 
so  much  time  as  I  do  in  solitude,  my  mind  would  have  rusted  by  gazing 
vacantly  at  the  shop-windows.  As  it  is,  I  am  no  sooner  in  the  streets  than 
I  am  in  Greece,  in  Rome,  in  the  midst  of  the  French  Revolution.  Precision 
in  dates,  the  day  or  hour  in  which  a  man  was  born  or  died,  becomes  ab- 
solutely necessary.  A  slight  fact,  a  sentence,  a  word,  are  of  importance  in 
my  romance.  "Pepys's  Diary"  formed  almost  inexhaustible  food  for  my 
fancy.  I  seem  to  know  every  inch  of  Whitehall.  I  go  in  at  Hans  Hol- 
bein's gate,  and  come  out  through  the  matted  gallery.  The  conversations 
which  I  compose  between  great  people  of  the  time  are  long,  and  sufficient- 
ly animated :  in  the  style,  if  not  with  the  merits,  of  Sir  Walter  Scott's. 
The  old  parts  of  London,  which  you  are  sometimes  surprised  at  my  know- 
ing so  well,  those  old  gates  and  houses  down  by  the  river,  have  all  played 
their  part  in  my  stories.'  He  spoke,  too,  of  the  manner  in  which  he  used 
to  wander  about  Paris,  weaving  tales  of  the  Revolution,  and  he  thought 
that  he  owed  his  command  of  language  greatly  to  this  habit. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  that  the  want  both  of  ability  and  memory  should  pre- 
vent my  preserving  with  greater  truth  a  conversation  which  interested 
me  very  much. 

"  May  21st,  1831. — Tom  was  from  London  at  the  time  my  mother's  death 
occurred,  and  thiugs  fell  out  in  such  a  manner  that  the  first  information 
he  received  of  it  was  from  the  newspapers.  He  came  home  directly.  He 
was  in  an  agony  of  distress,  and  gave  way  at  first  to  violent  bursts  of  feel- 
ing. During  the  whole  of  the  week  he  was  with  us  all  day,  and  was  the 
greatest  comfort  to  ns  imaginable.  He  talked  a  great  deal  of  our  sorrow, 
and  led  the  conversation  by  degrees  to  other  subjects,  bearing  the  whole 
burden  of  it  himself,  and  interesting  us  without  jarring  with  the  predomi- 
nant feeling  of  the  time.  I  never  saw  him  appear  to  greater  advantage — 
never  loved  him  more  dearly. 

"September,  1831. — Of  late  we  have  walked  a  good  deal.  I  remember 
pacing  up  and  down  Brunswick  Square  and  Lansdowne  Place  for  two 
hours  one  day,  deep  in  the  mazes  of  the  most  subtle  metaphysics ;  up  and 
down  Cork  Street,  engaged  over  Dryden's  poetry  and  the  great  men  of  that 
time ;  making  jokes  all  the  way  along  Bond  Street,  and  talking  politics 
everywhere. 


1830-'32.]  LOED  MACAULAY.  173 

"  Walking  in  the  streets  with  Tom  and  Hannah,  and  talking  about  the 
hard  work  the  heads  of  his  party  had  got  now,  I  said :  '  How  idle  they 
must  think  you,  when  they  meet  you  here  in  the  busy  part  of  the  day  !' 
'  Yes,  here  I  am/  said  he,  '  walking  with  two*  unidea'd  girls.  However, 
if  one  of  the  ministry  says  to  me,  "  Why  walk  you  here  all  the  day  idle  ?" 
I  shall  say,  "  Because  no  man  has  hired  me." ' 

"  We  talked  of  eloquence,  which  he  has  often  compared  to  fresco-paint- 
ing :  the  result  of  long  study  and  meditation,  but  at  the  moment  of  execu- 
tion thrown  off  with  the  greatest  rapidity  :  what  has  apparently  been  the 
work  of  a  few  hours  being  destined  to  last  for  ages. 

"  Mr.Tierney  said  he  was  sure  Sir  Philip  Francis  had  written  '  Jnnius,' 
for  he  was  the  proudest  man  he  ever  knew,  and  no  one  ever  heard  of  any 
thing  he  had  done  to  be  proud  of. 

"November  14th,  1831,  Half-past  Ten. — On  Friday  last  Lord  Grey  sent  for 
Tom.  His  note  was  received  too  late  to  be  acted  on  that  day.  On  Satur- 
day came  another,  asking  him  to  East  Sheen  on  that  day,  or  Sunday.  Yes- 
terday, accordingly,  he  went,  and  staid  the  night,  promising  to  be  here  as 
early  as  possible  to-day.  So  much  depends  upon  the  result  of  this  visit ! 
That  he  will  be  offered  a  place  I  have  not  the  least  doubt.  He  will  refuse 
a  lordship  of  the  treasury,  a  lordship  of  the  admiralty,  or  the  mastership  of 
the  ordnance.  He  will  accept  the  secretaryship  of  the  Board  of  Control, 
but  will  not  thank  them  for  it ;  and  would  not  accept  that,  but  that  he 
thinks  it  will  be  a  place  of  importance  during  the  approaching  discussions 
on  the  East  Indian  monopoly. 

"  If  be  gets  a  sufficient  salary,  Hannah  and  I  shall  most  likely  live  with 
him.  Can  I  possibly  look  forward  to  any  thing  happier?  I  can  not  imag- 
ine a  course  of  life  that  would  suit  him  better  than  thus  to  enjoy  the  pleas- 
ures of  domestic  life  without  its  restraints ;  with  sufficient  business,  but 
not,  I  hope,  too  much. 

"At  one  o'clock  he  came.  I  went  out  to  meet  him.  '  I  have  nothing  to 
tell  you.  Nothing.  Lord  Grey  sent  for  me  to  speak  about  a  matter  of  im- 
portance, which  must  be  strictly  private.' 

"  November  %7th. — I  am  just  returned  from  a  long  walk,  during  which 
the  conversation  turned  entirely  on  one  subject.  After  a  little  previous 
talk  about  a  certain  great  personage,t  I  asked  Tom  when  the  present  cool- 
ness between  them  began.  He  said :  '  Nothing  could  exceed  my  respect 
and  admiration  for  him  in  early  days.  I  saw  at  that  time  private  letters  in 

*  Boswell  relates  in  his  tenth  chapter  how  Johnson  scolded  Langton  for 
leaving  "  his  social  friends,  to  go  and  sit  with  a  set  of  wretched  unidea'd 
girls." 

t  The  personage  was  Lord  Brougham,  who  at  this  time  was  too  formi- 
dable for  the  poor  girl  to  venture  to  write  his  name  at  length  even  in  a 
private  journal. 


174:  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.IV. 

which  he  spoke  highly  of  my  articles,  and  of  me  as  the  most  rising  man  of 
the  time.  After  a  while,  however,  I  began  to  remark  that  he  became  ex- 
tremely cold  to  me,  hardly  ever  spoke  to  me  on  circuit,  and  treated  me 
•with  marked  slight.  If  I  were  talking  to  a  man,  if  he  wished  to  speak  to 
him  on  politics  or  any  thing  else  that  was  not  in  any  sense  a  private  mat- 
ter, he  always  drew  him  away  from  me  instead  of  addressing  us  both. 
When  my  article  on  Hallam  came  out,  he  complained  to  Jeffrey  that  I  took 
up  too  much  of  the  Beview  ;  and  when  my  first  article  on  Mill  appeared,  he 
foamed  with  rage,  and  was  very  angry  with  Jeffrey  for  having  priuted  it.' 

" '  But,'  said  I, '  the  Mills  are  friends  of  his,  and  he  naturally  did  not 
like  them  to  be  attacked.' 

" '  On  the  contrary,'  said  Tom, '  he  had  attacked  them  fiercely  himself; 
but  he  thought  I  had  made  a  hit,  and  was  angry  accordingly.  When  a 
friend  of  mine  defended  my  articles  to  him,  he  said :  "  I  know  nothing  of 
the  articles.  I  have  not  read  Macaulay's  articles."  What  can  be  imagined 
more  absurd  than  his  keeping  up  an  angry  correspondence  with  Jeffrey 
about  articles  he  has  never  read  ?  Well,  the  next  thing  was  that  Jeffrey, 
who  was  about  to  give  up  the  editorship,  asked  me  if  I  would  take  it.  I 
said  that  I  would  gladly  do  so,  if  they  would  remove  the  head-quarters 
of  the  Review  to  London.  Jeffrey  wrote  to  him  about  it.  He  disapproved 
of  it  so  strongly  that  the  plan  was  given  up.  The  truth  was  that  he  felt 
that  his  power  over  the  Review  diminished  as  mine  increased,  and  he  saw- 
that  he  would  have  little,  indeed,  if  I  were  editor. 

"'I  then  came  into  Parliament.  I  do  not  complain  that  he  should  have 
preferred  Denman's  claims  to  mine,  and  that  he  should  have  blamed  Lord 
Lansdowne  for  not  considering  him.  I  went  to  take  my  seat.  As  I  turn- 
ed from  the  table  at  which  I  had  been  taking  the  oaths,  he  stood  as  near 
to  me  as  you  do  now,  and  he  cut  me  dead.  We  never  spoke  in  the  House, 
excepting  once,  that  I  can  remember,  when  a  few  words  passed  between  us 
in  the  lobby.  I  have  sat  close  to  him  when  many  men  of  whom  I  knew 
nothing  have  introduced  themselves  to  me  to  shake  hands,  and  congrat- 
ulate me  after  making  a  speech,  and  he  has  never  said  a  single  word.  I 
know  that  it  is  jealousy,  because  I  am  not  the  first  man  whom  he  has  used 
in  this  way.  During  the  debate  on  the  Catholic  claims  he  was  so  enraged 
because  Lord  Plunket  had  made  a  very  splendid  display,  and  because  the 
Catholics  had  chosen  Sir  Francis  Burdett  instead  of  him  to  bring  the  bill 
forward,  that  he  threw  every  difficulty  in  its  way.  Sir  Francis  once  said 

to  him,  "  Really,  Mr. ,  you  are  so  jealous  that  it  is  impossible  to  act 

with  yon."  I  never  will  serve  in  an  administration  of  which  he  is  the 
head.  On  that  I  have  most  firmly  made  up  my  mind.  I  do  not  believe 
that  it  is  in  his  nature  to  be  a  month  in  office  without  caballing  against  his 
colleagues.* 

*  "  There  never  was  a  direct  personal  rival,  or  one  who  was  in  a  position 


1830-'32.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  175 

" '  He  is,  next  to  the  king,  the  most  popular  man  in  England.  There  is 
no  other  man  whose  entrance  iuto  any  town  in  the  kingdom  would  be  so 
certain  to  be  with  huzzaing  and  taking  off  of  horses.  At  the  same  time, 
he  is  in  a  very  ticklish  situatiou,  for  he  has  no  real  friends.  Jeffrey,  Syd- 
ney Smith,  Mackintosh,  all  speak  of  him  as  I  now  speak  to  you.  I  was 
talking  to  Sydney  Smith  of  him  the  other  day,  and  said  that,  great  as  I 
felt  his  faults  to  be,  I  must  allow  him  a  real  desire  to  raise  the  lower  or- 
ders, and  do  good  by  education,  and  those  methods  upon  which  his  heart 
has  been  always  set.  Sydney  would  not  allow  this,  or  any  other,  merit. 
Now,  if  those  who  are  called  his  friends  feel  toward  him,  as  they  all  do, 
angry  and  sore  at  his  overbearing,  arrogant,  and  neglectful  conduct,  when 
those  reactions  in  public  feeling,  which  must  come,  arrive,  he  will  have 
nothing  to  return  upon,  no  place  of  refuge,  no  band  of  such  tried  friends  as 
Fox  and  Canning  had  to  support  him.  You  will  see  that  he  will  soon  place 
himself  in  a  false  position  before  the  public.  His  popularity  will  go  down, 
and  he  will  find  himself  alone.  Mr.  Pitt,  it  is  true,  did  not  study  to  strength- 
en himself  by  friendships ;  but  this  was  not  from  jealousy.  I  do  not  love 
the  man,  but  I  believe  he  was  quite  superior  to  that.  It  was  from  a  soli- 
tary pride  he  had.  I  heard  at  Holland  House  the  other  day  that  Sir  Philip 
Francis  said  that,  though  he  hated  Pitt,  he  must  confess  there  was  some- 
thing fine  in  seeing  how  he  maintained  his  post  by  himself.  "  The  lion 
walks  alone,"  he  said.  "  The  jackals  herd  together." ' " 

This  conversation,  to  those  who  have  heard  Macaulay  talk, 
bears  unmistakable  signs  of  having  been  committed  to  paper 
while  the  words,  or,  at  any  rate,  the  outlines,  of  some  of  the 
most  important  sentences  were  fresh  in  his  sister's  mind.  Nat- 
ure had  predestined  the  two  men  to  mutual  antipathy.  Mac- 
aulay, who  knew  his  own  range  and  kept  within  it,  and  who 
gave  the  world  nothing  except  his  best  and  most  finished  work, 
was  fretted  by  the  slovenly  omniscience  of  Brougham,  who 
affected  to  be  a  walking  encyclopedia,  "  a  kind  of  semi-Solo- 
mon, half  knowing  every  thing  from  the  cedar  to  the  hyssop." 
The  student,  who,  in  his  later  years,  never  left  his  library  for 
the  House  of  Commons  without  regret,  had  little  in  common 
with  one  who,  like  Napoleon,  held  that  a  great  reputation  was 
a  great  noise;  who  could  not  change  horses  without  making 


which,  however  reluctantly,  implied  rivalry,  to  whom  he  has  been  just ; 
and  on  the  fact  of  this  ungenerous  jealousy  I  do  not  understand  that  there 
is  any  difference  of  opinion." — Lord  Cockburn'a  Journal. 


176  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.IV. 

a  speech,  see  the  Tories  come  in  without  offering  to  take  a 
judgeship,  or  allow  the  French  to  make  a  revolution  without 
proposing  to  naturalize  himself  as  a  citizen  of  the  new  repub- 
lic. The  statesman  who  never  deserted  an  ally  or  distrusted 
a  friend  could  have  no  fellowship  with  a  free-lance,  ignorant 
of  the  very  meaning  of  loyalty ;  who,  if  the  surfeited  pen  of 
the  reporter  had  not  declined  its  task,  would  have  enriched 
our  collections  of  British  oratory  by  at  least  one  philippic 
against  every  colleague  with  whom  he  had  ever  acted.  The 
many  who  read  this  conversation  by  the  light  of  the  public 
history  of  Lord  Melbourne's  administration,  and,  still  more,  the 
few  who  have  access  to  the  secret  history  of  Lord  Grey's  cabi- 
net, will  acknowledge  that  seldom  was  a  prediction  so  entirely 
fulfilled,  or  a  character  so  accurately  read.  And  that  it  was 
not  a  prophecy  composed  after  the  event,  is  proved  by  the  cir- 
cumstance that  it  stands  recorded  in  the  handwriting  of  one 
who  died  before  it  was  accomplished. 

"January  3d,  1832. — Yesterday  Tom  dined  at  Holland  House,  and  heard 
Lord  Holland  tell  this  story :  Some  paper  \vas  to  be  published  by  Mr.  Fox, 
in  -which  mention  was  made  of  Mr.  Pitt  having  been  employed  at  a  club  iu 
a  manner  that  would  have  created  scandal.  Mr.  Wilberforce  went  to  Mr. 
Fox,  and  asked  him  to  omit  the  passage.  '  Oh,  to  be  sure,'  said  Mr.  Fox ; 
'  if  there  are  any  good  people  who  would  be  scandalized,  I  will  certainly 
put  it  out.'  Mr.  Wilberforce  then  preparing  to  take  his  leave,  he  said: 
'Now,  Mr.  Wilberforce,  if,  instead  of  being  about  Mr.  Pitt,  this  had  been 
an  account  of  my  being  seen  gaming  at  White's  on  a  Sunday,  would  yon 
have  taken  so  much  pains  to  prevent  it  being  known?'  'I  asked  this,' 
said  Mr.  Fox,  '  because  I  wanted  to  see  what  he  would  say ;  for  I  knew  he 
would  not  tell  a  lie  about  it.  He  threw  himself  back,  as  his  way  was,  and 
only  answered,  "  Oh,  Mr.  Fox,  yon  are  always  so  pleasant !" ' 

"January  8th,  1832. — Yesterday  Tom  dined  with  us,  and  staid  late.  He 
talked  almost  uninterruptedly  for  six  hours.  In  the  evening  he  made  a 
great  many  impromptu  charades  in  verse.  I  remember  he  mentioned  a 
piece  of  impertinence  of  Sir  Philip  Francis.  Sir  Philip  was  writing  a  his- 
tory of  his  own  time,  with  characters  of  its  eminent  men,  and  one  day  ask- 
ed Mr.  Tierney  if  he  should  like  to  hear  his  own  character.  Of  course,  he 
said, '  Yes,'  and  it  was  read  to  him.  It  was  very  flattering,  and  he  express- 
ed his  gratification  for  so  favorable  a  description  of  himself.  '  Subject  to 
revision,  you  must  remember,  Mr.  Tierney,'  said  Sir  Philip,  as  he  laid  the 
manuscript  by ;  '  subject  to  revision  according  to  what  may  happen  in  the 
future.' 


1830-'32.]  LORD  MACAULAY. 

"  I  am  glad  Tom  has  reviewed  old  John  Bunyan.  Many  are  reading  it 
who  never  read  it  before.  Yesterday,  as  he  was  sitting  in  the  Athenasuin, 
a  gentleman  called  out,  '  Waiter,  is  there  a  copy  of  "  The  Pilgrim's  Prog- 
ress "  in  the  library  V  As  might  be  expected,  there  was  not. 

"February  12th,  1832. — This  evening  Tom  came  in,  Hannah  and  I  being 
alone.  He.  was  in  high  boyish  spirits.  He  had  seen  Lord  Lansdowne  in 
the  morning,  who  had  requested  to  speak  with  him.  His  lordship  said 
that  he  wished  to  have  a  talk  about  his  taking"  office,  not  with  any  partic- 
ular thing  in  view,  as  there  was  no  vacancy  at  present  and  none  expected, 
but  that  he  should  be  glad  to  know  his  wishes  in  order  that  he  might  be 
more  able  to  serve  him  in  them. 

"  Tom,  in  answer,  took  rather  a  high  tone.  He  said  he  was  a  poor  man, 
but  that  he  had  as  much  as  he  wanted,  and,  as  far  as  he  was  personally 
concerned,  had  no  desire  for  office.  At  the  same  time  he  thought  that, 
after  the  Reform  Bill  had  passed,  it  would  be  absolutely  necessary  that  the 
Government  should  be  strengthened ;  that  he  was  of  opinion  that  he  could 
do  it  good  service  ;  that  he  approved  of  its  general  principles,  and  should 
not  be  unwilling  to  join  it.  Lord  Lansdowne  said  that  they  all — and  he 
particularly  mentioned  Lord  Grey — felt  of  what  importance  to  them  his 
help  was,  and  that  he  now  perfectly  understood  his  views. 

"February  13th,  1832. — It  has  been  much  reported,  and  has  even  appear- 
ed in  the  newspapers,  that  the  ministers  were  doing  what  they  could  to 
get  Mr.  Robert  Grant  out  of  the  way  to  make  room  for  Tom.  Last  Sunday 
week  it  was  stated  in  the  John  Bull  that  Madras  had  been  offered  to  the 
judge  advocate  for  this  purpose,  but  that  he  had  refused  it.  Two  or  three 
nights  since,  Tom,  in  endeavoring  to  get  to  a  high  bench  in  the  House, 
stumbled  over  Mr.  Robert  Grant's  legs,  as  he  was  stretched  out  half 
asleep.  Being  roused,  he  apologized  in  the  usual  manner,  and  then 
added,  oddly  enough, '  I  am  very  sorry,  indeed,  to  stand  in  the  way  of  your 
mounting.' 

"March  15th,  1832. — Yesterday  Hannah  and  I  spent  a  very  agreeable 
afternoon  with  Tom. 

"  He  began  to  talk  of  his  idleness.  '  He  really  came  and  dawdled  with 
us  all  day  long :  he  had  not  written  a  line  of  his  review  of  Burleigh's  Life, 
and  he  shrunk  from  beginning  on  such  a  great  work.'  I  asked  him  to  put 
it  by  for  the  present,  and  write  a  light  article  on  novels.  This  he  seemed 
to  think  he  should  like,  and  said  he  could  get  up  an  article  on  Richardson 
in  a  very  short  time ;  but  he  knew  of  no  book  that  he  could  hang  it  on. 
Hannah  advised  that  he  should  place  at  the  head  of  his  article  a  fictitious 
title  in  Italian  of  a  critique  on  '  Clarissa  Harlowe,'  published  at  Venice.  He 
seemed  taken  with  this  idea,  but  said  that  if  he  did  such  a  thing  he  must 
never  let  his  dearest  friend  know. 

"I  was  amused  with  a  parody  of  Tom's  on  the  nursery  song  'Twenty 
Pounds  shall  marry  me,'  as  applied  to  the  creation  of  peers. 

YOL.  I.— 12 


178  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OP  [CHAP.  iv. 

What  though  now  opposed  I  be? 

Twenty  peers  shall  carry  me. 

If  twenty  won't,  thirty  will, 

For  I'm  his  majesty's  bouncing  Bill. 

Sir  Robert  Peel  has  been  extremely  complimentary  to  him.  One  sentence 
he  repeated  to  us :  'My  only  feeling  toward  that  gentleman  is  a  not  ungen- 
erous envy,  as  I  listened  to  that  wonderful  flow  of  natural  and  beautiful 
language,  and  to  that  utterance  which,  rapid  as  it  is,  seems  scarcely  able 
to  convey  its  rich  freight  of  thought  and  fancy !'  People  say  that  these 
words  were  evidently  carefully  prepared. 

"  I  have  just  been  looking  round  our  little  drawing-room,  as  if  trying  to 
impress  every  inch  of  it  on  iny  memory,  and  thinking  how  in  future  years 
it  will  rise  before  my  mind  as  the  scene  of  many  hours  of  light-hearted 
mirth :  how  I  shall  again  see  him,  lolling  indolently  on  the  old  blue  sofa, 
or  strolling  round  the  narrow  confines  of  our  room.  With  such  a  scene 
will  come  the  remembrance  of  his  beaming  countenance,  happy,  affection- 
ate smile,  and  joyous  laugh ;  while,  with  every  one  at  ease  around  him,  he 
poured  out  the  stores  of  his  full  mind  in  his  own  peculiarly  beautiful  and 
expressive  language,  more  delightful  here  than  anywhere  else,  because 
more  perfectly  unconstrained.  The  name  which  passes  through  this  little 
room  in  the  quiet,  gentle  tones  of  sisterly  affection  is  a  name  which  will 
be  repeated  through  distant  generations,  and  go  down  to  posterity  linked 
with  eventful  times  and  great  deeds." 

The  last  words  here  quoted  will  be  very  generally  regarded 
as  the  tribute  of  a  sister's  fondness.  Many,  who  readily  ad- 
mit that  Macaulay's  name  will  go  down  to  posterity  linked 
with  eventful  times  and  great  deeds,  make  that  admission 
with  reference  to  times  not  his  own,  and  deeds  in  which  he 
had  no  part  except  to  commemorate  them  with  his  pen.  To 
him,  as  to  others,  a  great  reputation  of  a  special  order  brought 
with  it  the  consequence  that  the  credit  which  he  deserved  for 
what  he  had  done  well  was  overshadowed  by  the  renown  of 
what  he  did  best.  The  world,  which  has  forgotten  that  New- 
ton excelled  as  an  administrator  and  Voltaire  as  a  man  of 
business,  remembers  somewhat  faintly  that  Macaulay  was  an 
eminent  orator,  and,  for  a  time  at  least,  a  strenuous  politician. 
The  universal  voice  of  his  contemporaries  during  the  first 
three  years  of  his  parliamentary  career  testifies  to  the  leading 
part  which  he  played  in  the  House  of  Commons  so  long  as 
with  all  his  heart  he  cared,  and  with  all  his  might  he  tried,  to 


1830-'32.]  LOED  MACAULAY.  1Y9 

play  it.  Jeffrey  (for  it  is  well  to  adduce  none  but  first-rate 
evidence)  says,  in  his  account  of  an  evening's  discussion  on 
the  second  reading  of  the  Reform  Bill :  "  Not  a  very  striking 
debate.  There  was  but  one  exception,  and  it  was  a  brilliant 
one.  I  mean  Macaulay,  who  surpassed  his  former  appearance 
in  closeness,  fire,  and  vigor,  and  very  much  improved  the  ef- 
fect of  it  by  a  more  steady  and  graceful  delivery.  It  was 
prodigiously  cheered,  as  it  deserved,  and,  I  think,  puts  him 
clearly  at  the  head  of  the  great  speakers,  if  not  the  debaters, 
of  the  House."  And  again,  on  the  lYth  of  December :  "  Mac- 
aulay made,  I  think,  the  best  speech  he  has  yet  delivered  ;  the 
most  condensed,  at  least,  and  with  the  greatest  weight  of  mat- 
ter. It  contained,  indeed,  the  only  argument  to  which  any  of 
the  speakers  who  followed  him  applied  themselves."  Lord 
Cockburn,  who  sat  under  the  gallery  for  twenty-seven  hours 
during  the  last  three  nights  of  the  bill,  pronounced  Macaulay's 
speech  to  have  been  "  by  far  the  best ;"  though,  like  a  good 
Scotchman,  he  asserts  that  he  heard  nothing  at  Westminster 
which  could  compare  with  Dr.  Chalmers  in  the  General  As- 
sembly. Sir  James  Mackintosh  writes  from  the  library  of 
the  House  of  Commons,  "  Macaulay  and  Stanley  have  made 
two  of  the  finest  speeches  ever  spoken  in  Parliament ;"  and  a 
little  further  on  he  classes  together  the  two  young  orators  as 
"  the  chiefs  of  the  next,  or  rather  of  this,  generation." 

To  gain  and  keep  the  position  that  Mackintosh  assigned 
him,  Macaulay  possessed  the  power,  and  in  early  days  did  not 
lack  the  will.  He  was  prominent  on  the  parliamentary  stage, 
and  active  behind  the  scenes ;  the  soul  of  every  honorable 
project  which  might  promote  the  triumph  of  his  principles 
and  the  ascendency  of  his  party.  One  among  many  passages 
in  his  correspondence  may  be  quoted  without  a  very  serious 
breach  of  ancient  and  time-worn  confidences.  On  the  17th  of 
September,  1831,  he  writes  to  his  sister  Hannah :  "  I  have  been 
very  busy  since  I  wrote  last,  moving  heaven  and  earth  to  ren- 
der it  certain  that,  if  our  ministers  are  so  foolish  as  to  resign 
in  the  event  of  a  defeat  in  the  Lords,  the  Commons  may  be 
firm  and  united;  and  I  think  that  I  have  arranged  a  plan 
which  will  secure  a  bold  and  instant  declaration  on  our  part 


180  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.IV. 

if  necessary.  Lord  Ebrington  is  the  man  whom  I  have  in  my 
eye  as  our  leader.  I  have  had  much  conversation  with  him, 
and  with  several  of  our  leading  county  members.  They  are 
all  stanch ;  and  I  will  answer  for  this — that,  if  the  ministers 
should  throw  us  over,  we  will  be  ready  to  defend  ourselves." 

The  combination  of  public  spirit,  political  instinct,  and  legit- 
imate self-assertion  which  was  conspicuous  in  Macaulay's  char- 
acter, pointed  him  out  to  some  whose  judgment  had  been  train- 
ed by  long  experience  of  affairs  as  a  more  than  possible  leader 
in  no  remote  future  ;  and  it  is  not  for  his  biographer  to  deny 
that  they  had  grounds  for  their  conclusion.  The  prudence,  the 
energy,  the  selfreliance,  which  he  displayed  in  another  field 
might  have  been  successfully  directed  to  the  conduct  of  an 
executive  policy  and  the  management  of  a  popular  assembly. 
Macaulay  never  showed  himself  deficient  in  the  qualities  which 
enable  a  man  to  trust  his  own  sense ;  to  feel  responsibility,  but 
not  to  fear  it ;  to  venture  where  others  shrink  ;  to  decide  while 
others  waver ;  with  all  else  that  belongs  to  the  vocation  of  a 
ruler  in  a  free  country.  But  it  was  not  his  fate :  it  was  not 
his  work :  and  the  rank  which  he  might  have  claimed  among 
the  statesmen  of  Britain  was  not  ill  exchanged  for  the  place 
which  he  occupies  in  the  literature  of  the  world. 

To  Macvey  Napier,  Esq. 

York,  March  22d,  1830. 

MY  DEAK  SIK, — I  was  in  some  doubt  as  to  what  I  should  be 
able  to  do  for  Number  101,  and  I  deferred  writing  till  I  could 
make  up  my  mind.  If  my  friend  Ellis's  article  on  "  Greek 
History,"  of  which  I  have  formed  high  expectations,  could 
have  been  ready,  I  should  have  taken  a  holiday.  But  as  there 
is  no  chance  of  that  for  the  next  number,  I  ought,  I  think, 
to  consider  myself  as  his  bail,  and  to  surrender  myself  to  your 
disposal  in  his  stead. 

I  have  been  thinking  of  a  subject,  light  and  trifling  enough, 
but  perhaps  not  the  worse  for  our  purpose  on  that  account. 
"We  seldom  want  a  sufficient  quantity  of  heavy  matter.  There 
is  a  wretched  poetaster  of  the  name  of  Robert  Montgomery 
who  has  written  some  volumes  of  detestable  verses  on  relig- 


1830-'32.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  181 

ious  subjects,  which  by  mere  puffing  in  magazines  and  news- 
papers have  had  an  immense  sale,  and  some  of  which  are  now 
in  their  tenth  or  twelfth  edition.  I  have  for  some  time  past 
thought  that  the  trick  of  puffing,  as  it  is  now  practiced  both 
by  authors  and  publishers,  is  likely  to  degrade  the  literary 
character  and  to  deprave  the  public  taste  in  a  frightful  degree. 
I  really  think  that  we  ought  to  try  what  effect  satire  will  have 
upon  this  nuisance,  and  I  doubt  whether  we  can  ever  find  a 
better  opportunity.  Yours,  very  faithfully, 

T.  B.  MACAULAY. 

To  Macvey  Napier,  Esq. 

London,  August  19th,  1830. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — The  new  number  appeared  this  morning  in 
the  shop  windows.  The  article  on  Niebuhr  contains  much 
that  is  very  sensible  ;  but  it  is  not  such  an  article  as  so  noble 
a  subject  required.  I  am  not,  like  Ellis,  Niebuhr-mad ;  and  I 
agree  with  many  of  the  remarks  which  the  reviewer  has  made 
both  on  this  work  and  on  the  school  of  German  critics  and 
historians.  But  surely  the  reviewer  ought  to  have  given  an 
account  of  the  system  of  exposition  which  ISTiebuhr  has  adopt- 
ed, and  of  the  theory  which  he  advances  respecting  the  insti- 
tutions of  Rome.  The  appearance  of  the  book  is  really  an 
era  in  the  intellectual  history  of  Europe,  and  I  think  that  the 
Edinburgh  Review  ought  at  least  to  have  given  a  luminous 
abstract  of  it.  '  The  very  circumstance  that  Niebuhr's  own  ar- 
rangement and  style  are  obscure,  and  that  his  translators  have 
need  of  translators  to  make  them  intelligible  to  the  multitude, 
rendered  it  more  desirable  that  a  clear  and  neat  statement  of 
the  points  in  controversy  should  be  laid  before  the  public. 
But  it  is  useless  to  talk  of  what  can  not  be  mended.  The  best 
editors  can  not  always  have  good  writers,  and  the  best  writers 
can  not  always  write  their  best. 

I  have  no  notion  on  what  ground  Brougham  imagines  that 
I  am  going  to  review  his  speech.  He  never  said  a  word  to 
me  on  the  subject.  Nor  did  I  ever  say  either  to  him  or  to 
any  one  else  a  single  syllable  to  that  effect.  At  all  events,  I 
shall  not  make  Brougham's  speech  my  text.  "We  have  had 


182  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  iv. 

quite  enough  of  puffing  and  flattering  each  other  in  the  Re- 
view. It  is  a  vile  taste  for  men  united  in  one  literary  under- 
taking to  exchange  their  favors. 

I  have  a  plan  of  which  I  wish  to  know  your  opinion.  In 
ten  days  or  thereabouts  I  set  off  for  France,  where  I  hope  to 
pass  six  weeks.  I  shall  be  in  the  best  society,  that  of  the  Due 
de  Broglie,  Guizot,  and  so  on.  I  think  of  writing  an  article 
on  the  politics  of  France  since  the  Restoration,  with  characters 
of  the  principal  public  men,  and  a  parallel  between  the  pres- 
ent state  of  France  and  that  of  England.  I  think  that  this 
might  be  made  an  article  of  extraordinary  interest.  I  do  not 
say  that  I  could  make  it  so.  It  must,  you  will  perceive,  be  a 
long  paper,  however  concise  I  may  try  to  be ;  but  as  the  sub- 
ject is  important,  and  I  am  not  generally  diffuse,  you  must  not 
stint  me.  If  you  like  this  scheme,  let  me  know  as  soon  as 
possible.  Ever  yours  truly,  T.  B.  MACAULAY. 

It  can  not  be  denied  that  there  was  some  ground  for  the 
imputation  of  systematic  puffing  which  Macaulay  urges  with 
a  freedom  that  a  modern  editor  would  hardly  permit  to  the 
most  valued  contributor.  Brougham  had  made  a  speech  on 
slavery  in  the  House  of  Commons ;  but  time  was  wanting  to 
get  the  Corrected  Report  published  soon  enough  for  him  to 
obtain  his  tribute  of  praise  in  the  body  of  the  Review.  The 
unhappy  Mr.  Napier  was  actually  reduced  to  append  a  notice 
to  the  July  number  regretting  that  "this  powerful  speech, 
which,  as  we  are  well  informed,  produced  an  impression  on 
those  who  heard  it  not  likely  to  be  forgotten,  or  to  remain 
barren  of  effects,  should  have  reached  us  at  a  moment  when 
it  was  no  longer  possible  for  us  to  notice  its  contents  at  any 
length On  the  eve  of  a  general  election  to  the  first  Par- 
liament of  a  new  reign,  we  could  have  wished  to  be  able  to  con- 
tribute our  aid  toward  the  facts  and  arguments  here  so  strik- 
ingly and  commandingly  stated  and  enforced,  among  those 

who  are  about  to  exercise  the  elective  franchise "VVe  trust 

that  means  will  be  taken  to  give  the  widest  possible  circula- 
tion to  the  Corrected  Report.  Unfortunately,  we  can,  at  pres- 
ent, do  nothing  more  than  lay  before  our  readers  its  glowing 


1830-'32.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  183 

peroration  —  so  worthy  of  this  great  orator,  this  unwearied 
friend  of  liberty  and  humanity." 

To  Macvey  No/pier,  Esq. 

Paris,  September  16th,  1830. 

MY  DEAK  SIK, — I  have  just  received  your  letter,  and  I  can 
not  deny  that  I  am  much  vexed  at  what  has  happened.  It  is 
not  very  agreeable  to  find  that  I  have  thrown  away  the  labor, 
the  not  unsuccessful  labor,  as  I  thought,  of  a  month,  particu- 
larly as  I  have  not  many  months  of  perfect  leisure.  This 
would  not  have  happened  if  Brougham  had  notified  his  inten- 
tions to  you  earlier,  as  he  ought,  in  courtesy  to  you,  and  to  ev- 
ery body  connected  with  the  Review,  to  have  done.  He  must 
have  known  that  this  French  question  was  one  on  which  many 
people  would  be  desirous  to  write. 

I  ought  to  tell  you  that  I  had  scarcely  reached  Paris  when  I 
received  a  letter  containing  a  very  urgent  application  from  a 
very  respectable  quarter.  I  was  desired  to  write  a  sketch,  in 
one  volume,  of  the  late  Revolution  here.  Now,  I  really  hesi- 
tated whether  I  should  not  make  my  excuses  to  you,  and  ac- 
cept this  proposal ;  not  on  account  of  the  pecuniary  terms,  for 
about  these  I  have  never  much  troubled  myself,  but  because  I 
should  have  had  ampler  space  for  this  noble  subject  than  the 
Review  would  have  afforded.  I  thought,  however,  that  this 
would  not  be  a  fair  or  friendly  course  toward  you.  I  accord- 
ingly told  the  applicants  that  I  had  promised  you  an  article, 
and  that  I  could  not  well  write  twice  in  one  month  on  the 
same  subject  without  repeating  myself.  I  therefore  declined, 
and  recommended  a  person  whom  I  thought  quite  capable  of 
producing  an  attractive  book  on  these  events.  To  that  person 
my  correspondent  has  probably  applied.  At  all  events,  I  can 
not  revive  the  negotiation.  I  can  not  hawk  my  rejected  arti- 
cles up  and  down  Paternoster  Row. 

I  am,  therefore,  a  good  deal  vexed  at  this  affair ;  but  I  am 
not  at  all  surprised  at  it.  I  see  all  the  difficulties  of  your  sit- 
uation. Indeed,  I  have  long  foreseen  them.  I  always  knew 
that  in  every  association,  literary  or  political,  Brougham  would 
wish  to  domineer.  I  knew,  also,  that  no  editor  of  the  Edin- 


184  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  TV. 

~burgJi  Review  could,  without  risking  the  ruin  of  the  publica- 
tion, resolutely  oppose  the  demands  of  a  man  so  able  and  pow- 
erful. It  was  because  I  was  certain  that  he  would  exact  sub- 
missions which  I  am  not  disposed  to  make  that  I  wished  last 
year  to  give  up  writing  for  the  Review.  I  had  long  been 
meditating  a  retreat.  I  thought  Jeffrey's  abdication  a  favora- 
ble time  for  effecting  it ;  not,  as  I  hope  you  are  well  assured, 
from  any  unkind  feeling  toward  you,  but  because  I  knew 
that,  under  any  editor,  mishaps  such  as  that  which  has  now 
occurred  would  be  constantly  taking  place.  I  remember  that 
I  predicted  to  Jeffrey  what  has  now  come  to  pass  almost  to 
the  letter. 

My  expectations  have  been  exactly  realized.  The  present 
constitution  of  the  Edinburgh  Review  is  this :  that  at  what- 
ever time  Brougham  may  be  pleased  to  notify  his  intention  of 
writing  on  any  subject,  all  previous  engagements  are  to  be 
considered  as  annulled  by  that  notification.  His  language 
translated  into  plain  English  is  this :  "  I  must  write  about  this 
French  Revolution,  and  I  will  write  about  it.  If  you  have 
told  Macaulay  to  do  it,  you  may  tell  him  to  let  it  alone.  If 
he  has  written  an  article,  he  may  throw  it  behind  the  grate. 
He  would  not  himself  have  the  assurance  to  compare  his  own 
claims  with  mine.  I  am  a  man  who  acts  a  prominent  part  in 
the  world :  he  is  nobody.  If  he  must  be  reviewing,  there  is 
my  speech  about  the  West  Indies.  Set  him  to  write  a  puff  on 
that.  What  have  people  like  him  to  do,  except  to  eulogize 
people  like  me?"  No  man  likes  to  be  reminded  of  his  infe- 
riority in  such  a  way,  and  there  are  some  particular  circum- 
stances in  this  case  which  render  the  admonition  more  unpleas- 
ant than  it  would  otherwise  be.  I  know  that  Brougham  dis- 
likes me ;  and  I  have  not  the  slightest  doubt  that  he  feels  great 
pleasure  in  taking  this  subject  out  of  my  hands,  and  at  hav- 
ing made  me  understand,  as  I  do  most  clearly  understand,  how 
far  my  services  are  rated  below  his.  I  do  not  blame  you  in 
the  least.  I  do  not  see  how  you  could  have  acted  otherwise. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  I  do  not  see  why  I  should  make  any 
efforts  or  sacrifices  for  a  Review  which  lies  under  an  intolera- 
ble dictation.  Whatever  my  writings  may  be  worth,  it  is  not 


1830-'32.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  185 

for  want  of  strong  solicitations  and  tempting  offers  from  other 
quarters  that  I  have  continued  to  send  them  to  the  Edinburgh 
Review.  I  adhered  to  the  connection  solely  because  I  took 
pride  and  pleasure  in  it.  It  has  now  become  a  source  of  hu- 
miliation and  mortification. 

I  again  repeat,  my  dear  sir,  that  I  do  not  blame  you  in  the 
least.  This,  however,  only  makes  matters  worse.  If  you  had 
used  me  ill,  I  might  complain,  and  might  hope  to  be  better 
treated  another  time.  Unhappily,  you  are  in  a  situation  in 
which  it  is  proper  for  you  to  do  what  it  would  be  improper  in 
me  to  endure.  What  has  happened  now  may  happen  next 
quarter,  and  must  happen  before  long,  unless  I  altogether  re- 
frain from  writing  for  the  Review.  I  hope  you  will  forgive 
me  if  I  say  that  I  feel  what  has  passed  too  strongly  to  be  in- 
clined to  expose  myself  to  a  recurrence  of  the  same  vexa- 
tions. Yours  most  truly,  T.  B.  MACATTLAY. 

A  few  soft  words  induced  Macaulay  to  reconsider  his  threat 
of  withdrawing  from  the  Review ;  but  even  before  Mr.  Na- 
pier's answer  reached  him  the  feeling  of  personal  annoyance 
had  already  been  effaced  by  a  greater  sorrow :  a  letter  arrived 
announcing  that  his  sister  Jane  had  died  suddenly  and  most 
unexpectedly.  She  was  found  in  the  morning  lying  as  though 
still  asleep,  having  passed  away  so  peacefully  as  not  to  disturb 
a  sister  who  had  spent  the  night  in  the  next  room,  with  a  door 
open  between  them.  Mrs.  Macaulay  never  recovered  from 
this  shock.  Her  health  gave  way,  and  she  lived  into  the 
coming  year  only  so  long  as  to  enable  her  to  rejoice  in  the 
first  of  her  son's  Parliamentary  successes. 

Paris,  September  26th. 

MY  DEAR  FATHER, — This  news  has  broken  my  heart.  I  am 
fit  neither  to  go  nor  to  stay.  I  can  do  nothing  but  sit  in 
my  room,  and  think  of  poor  dear  Jane's  kindness  and  affec- 
tion. When  I  am  calmer,  I  will  let  you  know  my  intentions. 
There  will  be  neither  use  nor  pleasure  in  remaining  here.  My 
present  purpose,  as  far  as  I  can  form  one,  is  to  set  off  in  two 
or  three  days  for  England,  and  in  the  mean  tune  to  see  no- 


186  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  iv. 

body,  if  I  can  help  it,  but  Dumont,  who  has  been  very  kind  to 
me.  Love  to  all — to  all  who  are  left  me  to  love.  We  must 
love  each  other  better.  T.  B.  M. 

London,  March  30th,  1831. 

DEAK  ELLIS, — I  have  little  news  for  you,  except  what  you 
will  learn  from  the  papers  as  well  as  from  me.  It  is  clear  that 
the  Reform  Bill  must  pass,  either  in  this  or  in  another  Parlia- 
ment. The  majority  of  one  does  not  appear  to  me,  as  it  does 
to  you,  by  any  means  inauspicious.  We  should  perhaps  have 
had  a  better  plea  for  a  dissolution  if  the  majority  had  been  the 
other  way.  But  surely  a  dissolution  under  such  circumstances 
would  have  been  a  most  alarming  thing.  If  there  should  be  a 
dissolution  now,  there  will  not  be  that  ferocity  in  the  public 
mind  which  there  would  have  been  if  the  House  of  Commons 
had  refused  to  entertain  the  bill  at  all.  I  confess  that,  till  we 
had  a  majority,  I  was  half  inclined  to  tremble  at  the  storm 
which  we  had  raised.  At  present  I  think  that  we  are  abso- 
lutely certain  of  victory,  and  of  victory  without  commotion. 

Such  a  scene  as  the  division  of  last  Tuesday  I  never  saw, 
and  never  expect  to  see  again.  If  I  should  live  fifty  years, 
the  impression  of  it  will  be  as  fresh  and  sharp  in  my  mind  as 
if  it  had  just  taken  place.  It  was  like  seeing  Caesar  stabbed 
in  the  Senate-house,  or  seeing  Oliver  taking  the  mace  from  the 
table  ;  a  sight  to  be  seen  only  once,  and  never  to  be  forgotten. 
The  crowd  overflowed  the  House  in  every  part.  When  the 
strangers  were  cleared  out,  and  the  doors  locked,  we  had  six 
hundred  and  eight  members  present — more  by  fifty-five  than 
ever  were  in  a  division  before.  The  ayes  and  noes  were  like 
two  volleys  of  cannon  from  opposite  sides  of  a  field  of  battle. 
When  the  opposition  went  out  into  the  lobby,*  an  operation 
which  took  up  twenty  minutes  or  more,  we  spread  ourselves 
over  the  benches  on  both  sides  of  the  House ;  for  there  were 
many  of  us  who  had  not  been  able  to  find  a  seat  during  the 


*  "  The  practice  in  the  Commons,  until  1836,  •was  to  send  one  party  forth 
into  the  lobby,  the  other  remaining  in  the  House." — SIR  T.  ERSKIXE  MAY'S 
Parliamentary  Practice. 


1830-'32.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  187 

evening.  When  the  doors  were  shut  we  began  to  speculate 
on  our  numbers.  Every  body  was  desponding.  "  We  have 
lost  it.  We  are  only  two  hundred  and  eighty  at  most.  I  do 
not  think  we  are  two  hundred  and  fifty.  They  are  three  hun- 
dred. Alderman  Thompson  has  counted  them.  He  says  they 
are  two  hundred  and  ninty-nine."  This  was  the  talk  on  our 
benches.  I  wonder  that  men  who  have  been  long  in  Parlia- 
ment do  not  acquire  a  better  coup  cPceil  for  numbers.  The 
House,  when  only  the  ayes  were  in  it,  looked  to  me  a  very  fair 
House — much  fuller  than  it  generally  is  even  on  debates  of 
considerable  interest.  I  had  no  hope,  however,  of  three  hun- 
dred. As  the  tellers  passed  along  our  lowest  row  on  the  left- 
hand  side  the  interest  was  insupportable — two  hundred  and 
ninety-one — two  hundred  and  ninety-two — we  were  all  stand- 
ing up  and  stretching  forward,  telling  with  the  tellers.  At 
three  hundred  there  was  a  short  cry  of  joy — at  three  hundred 
and  two  another — suppressed,  however,  in  a  moment ;  for  we 
did  not  yet  know  what  the  hostile  force  might  be.  We  knew, 
however,  that  we  could  not  be  severely  beaten.  The  doors 
were  thrown  open,  and  in  they  came.  Each  of  them,  as  he 
entered,  brought  some  different  report  of  their  numbers.  It 
must  have  been  impossible,  as  you  may  conceive,  in  the  lobby, 
crowded  as  they  were,  to  form  any  exact  estimate.  First  we 
heard  that  they  were  three  hundred  and  three ;  then  that  num- 
ber rose  to  three  hundred  and  ten  ;  then  went  down  to  three 
hundred  and  seven.  Alexander  Barry  told  me  that  he  had 
counted,  and  that  they  were  three  hundred  and  four.  We 
were  all  breathless  with  anxiety,  when  Charles  Wood,  who 
stood  near  the  door,  jumped  up  on  a  bench  and  cried  out, 
"  They  are  only  three  hundred  and  one."  We  set  up  a  shout 
that  you  might  have  heard  to  Charing  Cross,  waving  our  hats, 
stamping  against  the  floor,  and  clapping  our  hands.  The  tell- 
ers scarcely  got  through  the  crowd ;  for  the  House  was  throng- 
ed up  to  the  table,  and  all  the  floor  was  fluctuating  with  heads 
like  the  pit  of  a  theatre.  But  you  might  have  heard  a  pin 
drop  as  Duncannon  read  the  numbers.  Then  again  the  shouts 
broke  out,  and  many  of  us  shed  tears.  I  could  scarcely  refrain. 
And  the  jaw  of  Peel  fell ;  and  the  face  of  Twiss  was  as  the 


188  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.IV. 

face  of  a  damned  soul ;  and  Herries  looked  like  Judas  taking 
his  neck-tie  off  for  the  last  operation.  We  shook  hands,  and 
clapped  each  other  on  the  back,  and  went  out  laughing,  cry- 
ing, and  huzzaing  into  the  lobby.  And  no  sooner  were  the 
outer  doors  opened  than  another  shout  answered  that  within 
the  House.  All  the  passages  and  the  stairs  into  the  waiting- 
rooms  were  thronged  by  people  who  had  waited  till  four  in 
the  morning  to  know  the  issue.  We  passed  through  a  narrow 
lane  between  two  thick  masses  of  them ;  and  all  the  way 
down  they  were  shouting  and  waving  their  hats,  till  we  got 
into  the  open  air.  I  called  a  cabriolet,  and  the  first  thing 
the  driver  asked  was,  "  Is  the  bill  carried  ?"  "  Yes,  by  one." 
"  Thank  God  for  it,  sir !"  And  away  I  rode  to  Gray's  Inn — 
and  so  ended  a  scene  which  will  probably  never  be  equaled 
till  the  reformed  Parliament  wants  reforming ;  and  that  I 
hope  will  not  be  till  the  days  of  our  grandchildren — till  that 
truly  orthodox  and  apostolical  person,  Dr.  Francis  Ellis,  is  an 
archbishop  of  eighty. 

As  for  me,  I  am  for  the  present  a  sort  of  lion.  My  speech 
has  set  me  in  the  front  rank,  if  I  can  keep  there ;  and  it  has 
not  been  my  luck  hitherto  to  lose  ground  when  I  have  once 
got  it.  Sheil  and  I  are  on  very  civil  terms.  He  talks  largely 
concerning  Demosthenes  and  Burke.  He  made,  I  must  say, 
an  excellent  speech ;  too  florid  and  queer,  but  decidedly  suc- 
cessful. 

Why  did  not  Price  speak?  If  he  was  afraid,  it  was  not 
without  reason ;  for  a  more  terrible  audience  there  is  not  in 
the  world.  I  wish  that  Praed  had  known  to  whom  he  was 
speaking.  But,  with  all  his  talent,  he  has  no  tact,  and  he  has 
fared  accordingly.  Tierney  used  to  say  that  he  never  rose  in 
the  House  without  feeling  his  knees  tremble  under  him ;  and 
I  am  sure  that  no  man  who  has  not  some  of  that  feeling  -will 

o 

ever  succeed  there.     Ever  yours,  T.  B.  MA  CAUL  AY. 

London,  May  27th,  1831. 

MY  DEAR  HAXNAH, — Let  me  see  if  I  can  write  a  letter  d  la 
Richardson :  a  little  less  prolix  it  must  be,  or  it  will  exceed 
my  ounce.  By -the -bye,  I  wonder  that  Uncle  Selby  never 


1830-'32.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  189 

grudged  the  postage  of  Miss  Byron's  letters.  According  to 
the  nearest  calculation  that  I  can  make,  her  correspondence 
must  have  enriched  the  post-office  of  Ashby  Canons  by  some- 
thing more  than  the  whole  annual  interest  of  her  fifteen  thou- 
sand pounds. 

I  reached  Lansdowne  House  by  a  quarter  to  eleven,  and 
passed  through  the  large  suite  of  rooms  to  the  great  Sculpt- 
ure Gallery.  There  were  seated  and  standing  perhaps  three 
hundred  people  listening  to  the  performers,  or  talking  to  each 
other.  The  room  is  the  handsomest  and  largest,  I  am  told, 
in  any  private  house  in  London.  I  inclose  our  musical  bill  of 
fare.  Fanny,  I  suppose,  will  be  able  to  expound  it  better  than 
I.  The  singers  were  more  showily  dressed  than  the  auditors, 
and  seemed  quite  at  home.  As  to  the  company,  there  was 
just  every  body  in  London  (except  that  little  million  and  a 
half  that  you  wot  of) — the  Chancellor,  and  the  First  Lord  of 
the  Admiralty,  and  Sydney  Smith,  and  Lord  Mansfield,  and  all 
the  Barings  and  the  Fitzclarences,  and  a  hideous  Russian  spy, 
whose  face  I  see  everywhere,  with  a  star  on  his  coat.  Dur- 
ing the  interval  between  the  delights  of  "I  tuoi  frequenti," 
and  the  ecstasies  of  "  Se  tu  m'  ami,"  I  contrived  to  squeeze  up 
to  Lord  Lansdowne.  I  was  shaking  hands  with  Sir  James 
Macdonald,  when  I  heard  a  command  behind  us,  "  Sir  James, 
introduce  me  to  Mr.  Macaulay ;"  and  we  turned,  and  there  sat 
a  large  bold-looking  woman,  with  the  remains  of  a  fine  person, 
and  the  air  of  Queen  Elizabeth.  "  Macaulay,"  said  Sir  James, 
"  let  me  present  you  to  Lady  Holland."  Then  was  her  lady- 
ship gracious  beyond  description,  and  asked  me  to  dine  and 
take  a  bed  at  Holland  House  next  Tuesday.  I  accepted  the 
dinner,  but  declined  the  bed,  and  I  have  since  repented  that  I 
so  declined  it.  But  I  probably  shall  have  an  opportunity  of 
retracting  on  Tuesday. 

To-night  I  go  to  another  musical  party  at  Marshall's,  the  late 
M.P.  for  Yorkshire.  Every  body  is  talking  of  Paganini  and 
his  violin.  The  man  seems  to  be  a  miracle.  The  newspapers 
say  that  long  streamy  flakes  of  music  fall  from  his  string,  in- 
terspersed with  luminous  points  of  sound  which  ascend  the 
air  and  appear  like  stars.  This  eloquence  is  quite  beyond 
me.  Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 


190  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  iv. 

London,  May  28th,  1831. 

MY  DEAK  HANNAH, — More  gayeties  and  music-parties ;  not 
so  fertile  of  adventures  as  that  memorable  masquerade  whence 
Harriet  Byron  was  carried  away;  but  still  I  hope  that  the 
narrative  of  what  passed  there  will  gratify  "  the  venerable  cir- 
cle." Yesterday  I  dressed,  called  a  cab,  and  was  whisked  away 
to  Hill  Street.  I  found  old  Marshall's  house  a  very  fine  one. 
He  ought,  indeed,  to  have  a  fine  one ;  for  he  has,  I  believe, 
at  least  thirty  thousand  a  year.  The  carpet  was  taken  up,  and 
chairs  were  set  out  in  rows,  as  if  we  had  been  at  a  religious 
meeting.  Then  we  had  flute-playing  by  the  first  flute-player 
in  England,  and  pianoforte-strumming  by  the  first  pianoforte- 
strurnmer  in  England,  and  singing  by  all  the  first  singers  in 
England,  and  Signer  Rubini's  incomparable  tenor,  and  Signor 
Curioni's  incomparable  counter-tenor,  and  Pasta's  incompara- 
ble expression.  You  who  know  how  airs  much  inferior  to 
this  take  my  soul  and  lap  it  in  Elysium,  will  form  some  faint 
conception  of  my  transport.  Sharp  beckoned  me  to  sit  by 
him  in  the  back  row.  These  old  fellows  afe  so  selfish.  "Al- 
ways," said  he, "  establish  yourself  in  the  middle  of  the  row 
against  the  wall ;  for,  if  you  sit  in  the  front  or  next  the  edges, 
you  will  be  forced  to  give  up  your  seat  to  the  ladies  who  are 
standing."  I  had  the  gallantry  to  surrender  mine  to  a  damsel 
who  had  stood  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour ;  and  I  lounged  into 
the  anterooms,  where  I  found  Samuel  Rogers.  Rogers  and  I 
sat  together  on  a  bench  in  one  of  the  passages,  and  had  a  good 
deal  of  very  pleasant  conversation.  He  was — as  indeed  he 
has  always  been  to  me — extremely  kind,  and  told  me  that  if  it 
were  in  his  power  he  would  contrive  to  be  at  Holland  House 
with  me,  to  give  me  an  insight  into  its  ways.  He  is  the  great 
oracle  of  that  circle. 

He  has  seen  the  king's  letter  to  Lord  Grey  respecting  the 
Garter,  or  at  least  has  authentic  information  about  it.  It  is  a 
happy  stroke  of  policy,  and  will,  they  say,  decide  many  waver- 
ing votes  in  the  House  of  Lords.  The  king,  it  seems,  requests 
Lord  Grey  to  take  the  order,  as  a  mark  of  royal  confidence 
in  him  "  at  so  critical  a  time  " — significant  words,  I  think. 
Ever  yours,  T.  B.  MACATJLAY. 


1830-'32.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  191 

To  Ha/nnah  More  Macaulay. 

London,  May  SOtli,  1831. 

Well,  my  dear,  I  have  been  to  Holland  House.  I  took  a 
glass  coach,  and  arrived,  through  a  fine  avenue  of  elms,  at  the 
great  entrance  toward  seven  o'clock.  The  house  is  delightful 
— the  very  perfection  of  the  old  Elizabethan  style — a  consid- 
erable number  of  very  large  and  very  comfortable  rooms,  rich 
with  antique  carving  and  gilding,  but  carpeted  and  furnished 
with  all  the  skill  of  the  best  modern  upholsterers.  The  li- 
brary is  a  very  long  room — as  long,  I  should  think,  as  the  gal- 
lery at  Rothley  Temple — with  little  cabinets  for  study  branch- 
ing out  of  it,  warmly  and  snugly  fitted  up,  and  looking  out  on 
very  beautiful  grounds.  The  collection  of  books  is  not,  like 
Lord  Spencer's,  curious ;  but  it  contains  almost  every  thing 
that  one  ever  wished  to  read.  I  found  nobody  there  when  I 
arrived  but  Lord  Russell,  the  son  of  the  Marquess  of  Tavistock. 
We  are  old  House  of  Commons  friends;  so  we  had  some 
very  pleasant  talk,  and  in  a  little  while  in  came  Allen,  who  is 
warden  of  Dulwich  College,  and  who  lives  almost  entirely  at 
Holland  House.  He  is  certainly  a  man  of  vast  information 
and  great  conversational  powers.  Some  other  gentlemen  drop- 
ped in,  and  we  chatted  till  Lady  Holland  made  her  appear- 
ance. Lord  Holland  dined  by  himself  on  account  of  his  gout. 
We  sat  down  to  dinner  in  a  fine  long  room,  the  wainscot  of 
which  is  rich  with  gilded  coronets,  roses,  and  portcullises. 
There  were  Lord  Albernarle,  Lord  Alvanley,  Lord  Russell, 
Lord  Mahon — a  violent  Tory,  but  a  very  agreeable  companion 
and  a  very  good  scholar.  There  was  Cradock,  a  fine  fellow, 
who  was  the  Duke  of  Wellington's  aid-de-camp  in  1815,  and 
some  other  people  whose  names  I  did  not  catch.  What,  how- 
ever, is  more  to  the  purpose,  there  was  a  most  excellent  din- 
ner. I  have  always  heard  that  Holland  House  is  famous  for 
its  good  cheer,  and  certainly  the  reputation  is  not  unmerited. 
After  dinner  Lord  Holland  was  wheeled  in  and  placed  very 
near  me.  He  was  extremely  amusing  and  good-natured.  ' 

In  the  drawing-room  I  had  a  long  talk  with  Lady  Holland 
about  the  antiquities  of  the  house,  and  about  the  purity  of  the 


192  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.IV. 

English  language  wherein  she  thinks  herself  a  critic.  I  hap- 
pened, in  speaking  about  the  Reform  Bill,  to  say  that  I  wished 
that  it  had  been  possible  to  form  a  few  commercial  constitu- 
encies, if  the  word  constituency  were  admissible.  "  I  am  glad 
you  put  that  in,"  said  her  ladyship.  "  I  was  just  going  to 
give  it  you.  It  is  an  odious  word.  Then  there  is  talented, 
and  influential,  and  gentlemanly.  I  never  could  break  Sheri- 
dan of  gentlemanly,  though  he  allowed  it  to  be  wrong."  We 
talked  about  the  word  talents  and  its  history.  I  said  that  it 
had  first  appeared  in  theological  writing,  that  it  was  a  meta- 
phor taken  from  the  parable  in  the  New  Testament,  and  that 
it  had  gradually  passed  from  the  vocabulary  of  divinity  into 
common  use.  I  challenged  her  to  find  it  in  any  classical 
writer  on  general  subjects  before  the  Restoration,  or  even  be- 
fore the  year  1700.  I  believe  that  I  might  safely  have  gone 
down  later.  She  seemed  surprised  by  this  theory,  never  hav- 
ing, so  far  as  I  could  judge,  heard  of  the  parable  of  the  talents. 
I  did  not  tell  her,  though  I  might  have  done  so,  that  a  person 
who  professes  to  be  a  critic  in  the  delicacies  of  the  English 
language  ought  to  have  the  Bible  at  his  fingers'  ends. 

She  is  certainly  a  woman  of  considerable  talents  and  great 
literary  acquirements.  To  me  she  was  excessively  gracious; 
yet  there  is  a  haughtiness  in  her  courtesy  which,  even  after  all 
that  I  had  heard  of  her,  surprised  me.  The  centurion  did  not 
keep  his  soldiers  in  better  order  than  she  keeps  her  guests. 
It  is  to  one  "  Go,"  and  he  goeth ;  and  to  another  "  Do  this," 
and  it  is  done.  "  Ring  the  bell,  Mr.  Macaulay."  "  Lay  down 
that  screen,  Lord  Russell ;  you  will  spoil  it."  "  Mr.  Allen, 
take  a  candle  and  show  Mr.  Cradock  the  picture  of  Bona- 
parte." Lord  Holland  is,  on  the  other  hand,  all  kindness, 
simplicity,  and  vivacity.  He  talked  very  well  both  on  poli- 
tics and  on  literature.  He  asked  me  in  a  very  friendly  man- 
ner about  my  father's  health,  and  begged  to  be  remembered 
to  him. 

When  my  coach  came,  Lady  Holland  made  me  promise 
that  I  would  on  the  first  fine  morning  walk  out  to  breakfast 
with  them  and  see  the  grounds;  and,  after  drinking  a  glass 
of  very  good  iced  lemonade,  I  took  my  leave,  much  amused 


1830-'32.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  193 

and  pleased.  The  house  certainly  deserves  its  reputation  for 
pleasantness,  and  her  ladyship  used  me,  I  believe,  as  well  as  it 
is  her  way  to  use  any  body.  Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

To  Hannah  M.  Macmday. 

Court  of  Commissioners,  Basinghall  Street,  May  31st,  1831. 

MY  DEAR  SISTER, — How  delighted  I  am  that  you  like  my 
letters,  and  how  obliged  by  yours !  But  I  have  little  more 
than  my  thanks  to  give  for  your  last.  I  have  nothing  to  tell 
about  great  people  to-day.  I  heard  no  fine  music  yesterday, 
saw  nobody  above  the  rank  of  a  baronet,  and  was  shut  up  in 
my  own  room  reading  and  writing  all  the  morning.  This 
day  seems  likely  to  pass  in  much  the  same  way,  except  that  I 
have  some  bankruptcy  business  to  do,  and  a  couple  of  sov- 
ereigns to  receive.  So  here  I  am,  with  three  of  the  ugliest 
attorneys  that  ever  deserved  to  be  transported  sitting  oppo- 
site to  me:  a  disconsolate-looking  bankrupt,  his  hands  in  his 
empty  pockets,  standing  behind ;  a  lady  scolding  for  her 
money,  and  refusing  to  be  comforted  because  it  is  not ;  and  a 
surly  butcher-like-looking  creditor,  growling  like  a  house-dog, 
and  saying,  as  plainly  as  looks  can  say, "  If  I  sign  your  cer- 
tificate, blow  me,  that's  all."  Among  these  fair  and  interest- 
ing forms,  on  a  piece  of  official  paper,  with  a  pen  and  with 
ink  found  at  the  expense  of  the  public,  am  I  writing  to 
Nancy. 

These  dirty  courts,  filled  with  Jew  money-lenders,  sheriffs' 
officers,  attorneys'  runners,  and  a  crowd  of  people  who  live  by 
giving  sham  bail  and  taking  false  oaths,  are  not  by  any  means 
such  good  subjects  for  a  lady's  correspondent  as  the  sculpture 
gallery  at  Lansdowne  House,  or  the  conservatory  at  Holland 
House,  or  the  notes  of  Pasta,  or  the  talk  of  Rogers.  But  we 
can  not  be  always  fine.  When  my  Richardsonian  epistles  are 
published  there  must  be  dull  as  well  as  amusing  letters  among 
them ;  and  this  letter  is,  I  think,  as  good  as  those  sermons  of 
Sir  Charles  to  Geronymo  which  Miss  Byron  hypocritically 
asked  for,  or  as  the  greater  part  of  that  stupid  last  volume. 

We  shall  soon  have  more  attractive  matter.  I  shall  walk 
out  to  breakfast  at  Holland  House;  and  I  am  to  dine  with 

YOL.  I.— 13 


194  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  IT. 

Sir  George  Philips,  and  with  his  son,  the  member  for  Steyn- 
ing,  who  have  the  best  of  company ;  and  I  am  going  to  the 

fancy  ball  of the  Jew.     He  met  me  in  the  street,  and 

implored  me  to  come.  "  You  need  not  dress  more  than  for 
an  evening  party.  You  had  better  come.  You  will  be  de- 
lighted. It  will  be  so  very  pretty."  I  thought  of  Dr.  John- 
son* and  the  herdsman  with  his  "See,  such  pretty  goats." 
However,  I  told  my  honest  Hebrew  that  I  would  come.  I 
may  perhaps,  like  the  Benjamites,  steal  away  some  Israelite 
damsel  in  the  middle  of  her  dancing. 

But  the  noise  all  round  me  is  becoming  louder,  and  a  baker 
in  a  white  coat  is  bellowing  for  the  book  to  prove  a  debt  of 
nine  pounds  fourteen  shillings  and  f ourpence.  So  I  must  fin- 
ish my  letter,  and  fall  to  business.  Ever  yours, 

T.  B.  M. 

To  Hannah  M.  Macaulay. 

London,  Jnne  1st,  1831. 

MY  DEAE  SISTEE, — My  last  letter  was  a  dull  one.  I  mean 
this  to  be  very  amusing.  My  last  was  about  Basinghall  Street, 
attorneys,  and  bankrupts.  But  for  this — take  it  dramatically 
in  the  German  style. 

Fine  morning.     Scene,  the  great  entrance  of  Holland,  House. 
Enter  MACAULAY,  and  Two  FOOTMEN  ire  livery. 

First  Footman.  Sir,  may  I  venture  to  demand  your  name  t 

Macaulay.  Macaulay,  and  thereto  I  add  M.P. 
And  that  addition,  even  in  these  proud  halls, 
May  \vell  insure  the  bearer  some  respect. 

Second  Footman.  And  art  thou  come  to  breakfast  with  our  lord  f 

Macaulay.  I  am ;  for  so  his  hospitable  will, 
And  hers — the  peerless  dame  ye  serve — hath  bade. 

First  Footman.  Ascend  the  stair,  and  thou  above  shalt  find, 
On  snow-white  linen  spread,  the  luscious  meal. 

(Exit  MACADLAY  upstairs.) 

In  plain  English  prose,  I  went  this  morning  to  breakfast  at  Hol- 
land House.  The  day  was  fine,  and  I  arrived  at  twenty  min- 

*  See  Boswell's  "  Tour  to  the  Hebrides,"  September  1st,  1773. 


1830-'32.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  195 

utes  after  ten.  After  I  had  lounged  a  short  time  in  the  din- 
ing-room, I  heard  a  gruff,  good-natured  voice  asking,  "  Where 
is  Mr.  Macaulay?  Where  have  you  put  him?"  and  in  his 
arm-chair  Lord  Holland  was  wheeled  in.  He  took  me  round 
the  apartments,  he  riding,  and  I  walking.  He  gave  me  the 
history  of  the  most  remarkable  portraits  in  the  library,  where 
there  is,  by-the-bye,  one  of  the  few  bad  pieces  of  Lawrence 
that  I  have  seen — a  head  of  Charles  James  Fox,  an  ignomini- 
ous failure.  Lord  Holland  said  that  it  was  the  worst  ever 
painted  of  so  eminent  a  man  by  so  eminent  an  artist.  There 
is  a  very  fine  head  of  Machiavelli,  and  another  of  Earl  Grey,  a 
very  different  sort  of  man.  I  observed  a  portrait  of  Lady  Hol- 
land, painted  some  thirty  years  ago.  I  could  have  cried  to  see 
the  change.  She  must  have  been  a  most  beautiful  woman. 
She  still  looks,  however,  as  if  she  had  been  handsome,  and 
shows  in  one  respect  great  taste  and  sense :  she  does  not  rouge 
at  all,  and  her  costume  is  not  youthful,  so  that  she  looks  as 
well  in  the  morning  as  in  the  evening.  We  came  back  to  the 
dining-room.  Our  breakfast  party  consisted  of  my  lord  and 
lady,  myself,  Lord  Russell,  and  Luttrell.  You  must  have 
heard  of  Luttrell.  I  met  him  once  at  Rogers's ;  and  I  have 
seen  him,  I  think,  in  other  places.  He  is  a  famous  wit — the 
most  popular,  I  think,  of  all  the  professed  wits — a  man  who 
has  lived  in  the  highest  circles,  a  scholar,  and  no  contemptible 
poet.  He  wrote  a  little  volume  of  verse  entitled  "Advice  to 
Julia  " — not  first-rate,  but  neat,  lively,  piquant,  and  showing 
the  most  consummate  knowledge  of  fashionable  life. 

We  breakfasted  on  very  good  coffee,  and  very  good  tea,  and 
very  good  eggs,  butter  kept  in  the  midst  of  ice,  and  hot  rolls. 
Lady  Holland  told  us  her  dreams ;  how  she  had  dreamed  that 
a  mad  dog  bit  her  foot,  and  how  she  set  off  to  Brodie,  and  lost 
her  way  in  St.  Martin's  Lane,  and  could  not  find  him.  She 
hoped,  she  said,  the  dream  would  not  come  true.  I  said  that 
I  had  had  a  dream  which  admitted  of  no  such  hope,  for  I  had 
dreamed  that  I  heard  Pollock  speak  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons, that  the  speech  was  very  long,  and  that  he  was  coughed 
down.  This  dream  of  mine  diverted  them  much. 

After  breakfast  Lady  Holland  offered  to  conduct  me  to  her 


196  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.IV. 

own  drawing-room,  or,  rather,  commanded  my  attendance. 
A  very  beautiful  room  it  is,  opening  on  a  terrace,  and  wain- 
scoted with  miniature  paintings  interesting  from  their  merit, 
and  interesting  from  their  history.  Among  them  I  remarked 
a  great  many — thirty  I  should  think — which  even  I,  who  am 
no  great  connoisseur,  saw  at  once  could  come  from  no  hand 
but  Stothard's.  They  were  all  on  subjects  from  Lord  Byron's 
poems.  "  Yes,"  said  she ;  "  poor  Lord  Byron  sent  them  to 
me  a  short  time  before  the  separation.  I  sent  them  back,  and 
told  him  that,  if  he  gave  them  away,  he  ought  to  give  them 
to  Lady  Byron.  But  he  said  that  he  would  not,  and  that  if  I 
did  not  take  them  the  bailiffs  would,  and  that  they  would  be 
lost  in  the  wreck."  Her  ladyship  then  honored  me  so  far  as 
to  conduct  me  through  her  dressing-room  into  the  great  fam- 
ily bed-chamber  to  show  me  a  very  fine  picture,  by  Reynolds, 
of  Fox,  when  a  boy,  bird'snesting.  She  then  consigned  me  to 
Luttrell,  asking  him  to  show  me  the  grounds. 

Through  the  grounds  we  went,  and  very  pretty  I  thought 
them.  In  the  Dutch  garden  is  a  fine  bronze  bust  of  Napo- 
leon, which  Lord  Holland  put  up  in  1817,  while  Napoleon 
was  a  prisoner  at  St.  Helena.  The  inscription  was  selected 
by  his  lordship,  and  is  remarkably  happy.  It  is  from  Homer's 
"  Odyssey."  I  will  translate  it,  as  well  as  I  can  extempore, 
into  a  measure,  which  gives  a  better  idea  of  Homer's  manner 
than  Pope's  sing-song  couplet. 

For  not,  be  sure,  within  the  grave 
Is  hid  that  prince,  the  wise,  the  brave ; 
But  in  an  islet's  narrow  bound, 
With  the  great  ocean  roaring  round, 
The  captive  of  a  foeman  base, 
He  pines  to  view  his  native  place. 

There  is  a  seat  near  the  spot  which  is  called  Rogers's  seat. 
The  poet  loves,  it  seems,  to  sit  there.  A  very  elegant  inscrip- 
tion by  Lord  Holland  is  placed  over  it : 

Here  Rogers  sat ;  and  here  forever  dwell 
With  ine  those  pleasures  which  he  sung  so  well. 

Yery  neat  and  condensed,  I  think.     Another  inscription  by 


1830-'32.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  197 

Luttrell  hangs  there.  Luttrell  adjured  me  with  mock  pathos 
to  spare  his  blushes ;  but  I  am  author  enough  to  know  what 
the  blushes  of  authors  mean.  So  I  read  the  lines,  and  very 
pretty  and  polished  they  were,  but  too  many  to  be  remember- 
ed from  one  reading. 

Having  gone  round  the  grounds,  I  took  my  leave,  very 
much  pleased  with  the  place.  Lord  Holland  is  extremely 
kind.  But  that  is  of  course ;  for  he  is  kindness  itself.  Her 
ladyship  too,  which  is  by  no  means  of  course,  is  all  gracious- 
ness  and  civility.  But,  for  all  this,  I  would  much  rather  be 
quietly  walking  with  you :  and  the  great  use  of  going  to  these 
fine  places  is  to  learn  how  happy  it  is  possible  to  be  without 
them.  Indeed,  I  care  so  little  for  them  that  I  certainly  should 
not  have  gone  to-day,  but  that  I  thought  that  I  should  be  able 
to  find  materials  for  a  letter  which  you  might  like. 

Farewell.  T.  B.  MACAIJLAY. 

To  Hannah  M,  Macaulay. 

London,  June  3d,  1831. 

MY  DEAR  SISTEK, — I  can  not  tell  you  how  delighted  I  am  to 
find  that  my  letters  amuse  you.  But  sometimes  I  must  be 
dull  like  my  neighbors.  I  paid  no  visits  yesterday,  and  have 
no  news  to  relate  to-day.  I  am  sitting  again  in  Basinghall 
Street ;  and  Basil  Montagu*  is  haranguing  about  Lord  Veru- 
lam  and  the  way  of  inoculating  one's  mind  with  truth ;  and 
all  this  apropos  of  a  lying  bankrupt's  balance-sheet. 

Send  me  some  gossip,  my  love.  Tell  me  how  you  go  on 
with  German.  What  novel  have  you  commenced?  or,  rath- 
er, how  many  dozen  have  you  finished  ?  Recommend  me  one. 
What  say  you  to  "  Destiny  ?"  Is  "  The  Young  Duke  "  worth 
reading  ?  And  what  do  you  think  of  "  Laurie  Todd  ?" 

I  am  writing  about  Lord  Byron  so  pathetically  that  I  make 
Margaret  cry,  but  so  slowly  that  I  am  afraid  I  shall  make  N a- 

*  "Those  who  are  acquainted  with  the  courts  in  which  Mr.  Montagu 
practices  with  so  much  ability  and  success  will  know  how  often  he  enliv- 
ens the  discussion  of  a  point  of  law  by  citing  some  weighty  aphorism,  or 
some  brilliant  illustration,  from  the  'De  Augmentis'  or  the  'Novum  Orga- 
num.'" — MACAULAY'S  Review  of  Basil  Montagu's  Edition  of  Bacon. 


198  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  iv. 

pier  wait.  Kogers,  like  a  civil  gentleman,  told  me  last  week 
to  write  no  more  reviews,  and  to  publish  separate  works,  add- 
ing, what  for  him  is  a  very  rare  thing,  a  compliment,  "  You 
may  do  any  thing,  Mr.  Macaulay."  See  how  vain  and  insin- 
cere human  nature  is !  I  have  been  put  into  so  good  a  temper 
with  Kogers,  that  I  have  paid  him,  what  is  as  rare  with  me  as 
with  him,  a  very  handsome  compliment  in  my  review.  It  is 
not  undeserved,  but  I  confess  that  I  can  not  understand  the 
popularity  of  his  poetry.  It  is  pleasant  and  flowing  enough, 
less  monotonous  than  most  of  the  imitations  of  Pope  and 
Goldsmith,  and  calls  up  many  agreeable  images  and  recollec- 
tions. But  that  such  men  as  Lord  Granville,  Lord  Holland, 
Hobhouse,  Lord  Byron,  and  others  of  high  rank  in  intellect, 
should  place  Rogers,  as  they  do,  above  Southey,  Moore,  and 
even  Scott  himself,  is  what  I  can  not  conceive.  But  this 
comes  of  being  in  the  highest  society  of  London.  What  Lady 
Jane  Granville  called  the  Patronage  of  Fashion  can  do  as 
much  for  a  middling  poet  as  for  a  plain  girl  like  Miss  Ara- 
bella Falconer.* 

But  I  must  stop.  This  rambling  talk  has  been  scrawled  in 
the  middle  of  haranguing,  squabbling,  swearing,  and  crying. 
Since  I  began  it,  I  have  taxed  four  bills,  taken  forty  deposi- 
tions, and  rated  several  perjured  witnesses. 

Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

To  Hannah  and  Margaret  Macaulay. 

London,  June  7th,  1831. 

Yesterday  I  dined  at  Marshall's,  and  was  almost  consoled 
for  not  meeting  Ramohun  Roy  by  a  very  pleasant  party.  The 
great  sight  was  the  two  wits,  Rogers  and  Sydney  Smith.  Sin- 
gly I  have  often  seen  them ;  but  to  see  them  both  together  was 
a  novelty,  and  a  novelty  not  the  less  curious  because  their  mu- 
tual hostility  is  well  known,  and  the  hard  hits  which  they  have 
given  to  each  other  are  in  every  body's  mouth.  They  were 
very  civil,  however.  But  I  was  struck  by  the  truth  of  what 

*  Lady  Jane  and  Miss  Arabella  appear  in  Miss  Edgeworth's  "  Patron- 
age." 


1830-'32.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  199 

Matthew  Bramble,  a  person  of  whom  you  probably  never 
heard,  says  in  Smollett's  "  Humphry  Clinker  " — that  one  wit 
in  a  company,  like  a  knuckle  of  ham  in  soup,  gives  a  flavor, 
but  two  are  too  many.  Rogers  and  Sydney  Smith  would  not 
come  into  conflict.  If  one  had  possession  of  the  company,  the 
other  was  silent ;  and,  as  you  may  conceive,  the  one  who  had 
possession  of  the  company  was  always  Sydney  Smith,  and  the 
one  who  was  silent  was  always  Rogers.  Sometimes,  however, 
the  company  divided,  and  each  of  them  had  a  small  congrega- 
tion. I  had  a  good  deal  of  talk  with  both  of  them ;  for,  in 
whatever  they  may  disagree,  they  agree  in  always  treating  me 
with  very  marked  kindness. 

I  had  a  good  deal  of  pleasant  conversation  with  Rogers. 
He  was  telling  me  of  the  curiosity  and  interest  which  at- 
tached to  the  persons  of  Sir  Walter  Scott  and  Lord  Byron. 
When  Sir  Walter  Scott  dined  at  a  gentleman's  in  London 
some  time  ago,  all  the  servant-maids  in  the  house  asked  leave 
to  stand  in  the  passage  and  see  him  pass.  He  was,  as  you 
may  conceive,  greatly  flattered.  About  Lord  Byron,  whom 
he  knew  well,  he  told  me  some  curious  anecdotes.  When 
Lord  Byron  passed  through  Florence,  Rogers  was  there.  They 
had  a  good  deal  of  conversation,  and  Rogers  accompanied  him 
to  his  carriage.  The  inn  had  fifty  windows  in  front.  All 
the  windows  were  crowded  with  women,  mostly  English  wom- 
en, to  catch  a  glance  at  their  favorite  poet.  Among  them 
were  some  at  whose  houses  he  had  often  been  in  England, 
and  with  whom  he  had  lived  on  friendly  terms.  He  would 
not  notice  them,  or  return  their  salutations.  Rogers  was  the 
only  person  that  he  spoke  to. 

The  worst  thing  that  I  know  about  Lord  Byron  is  the  very 
unfavorable  impression  which  he  made  on  men  who  certain- 
ly were  not  inclined  to  judge  him  harshly,  and  who,  as  far  as 
I  know,  were  never  personally  ill-used  by  him.  Sharp  and 
Rogers  both  speak  of  him  as  an  unpleasant,  affected,  splenetic 
person.  I  have  heard  hundreds  and  thousands  of  people  who 
never  saw  him  rant  about  him ;  but  I  never  heard  a  single  ex- 
pression of  fondness  for  him  fall  from  the  lips  of  any  of  those 
who  knew  him  well.  Yet,  even  now,  after  the  lapse  of  five- 


200  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  iv. 

and-twenty  years,  there  are  those  who  can  not  talk  for  a  quar- 
ter of  an  hour  about  Charles  Fox  without  tears. 

Sydney  Smith  leaves  London  on  the  20th,  the  day  before 
Parliament  meets  for  business.  I  advised  him  to  stay,  and 
see  something  of  his  friends  who  would  be  crowding  to  Lon- 
don. "  My  flock  !"  said  this  good  shepherd.  "  My  dear  sir, 
remember  my  flock ! 

"  The  hungry  sheep  look  up,  and  are  not  fed." 

I  could  say  nothing  to  such  an  argument,  but  I  could  not  help 
thinking  that,  if  Mr.  Daniel  Wilson  had  said  such  a  thing,  it 
would  infallibly  have  appeared  in  his  funeral  sermon,  and  in 
his  "  Life  "  by  Baptist  Noel.  But  in  poor  Sydney's  mouth  it 
sounded  like  a  joke.  He  begged  me  to  come  and  see  him  at 
Combe  Florey.  "  There  I  am,  sir,  the  priest  of  the  Flowery 
Valley,  in  a  delightful  parsonage,  about  which  I  care  a  good 
deal,  and  a  delightful  country,  about  which  I  do  not  care  a 
straw."  I  told  him  that  my  meeting  him  was  some  com- 
pensation for  missing  Kamohun  Eoy.  Sydney  broke  forth: 
"  Compensation !  Do  you  mean  to  insult  me  ?  A  beneficed 
clergyman,  an  orthodox  clergyman,  a  nobleman's  chaplain,  to 
be  no  more  than  compensation  for  a  Brahmin  ;  and  a  heretic 
Brahmin  too,  a  fellow  who  has  lost  his  own  religion  and  can't 
find  another;  a  vile  heterodox  dog,  who,  as  I  am  credibly 
informed,  eats  beefsteaks  in  private !  A  man  who  has  lost 
his  caste ;  who  ought  to  have  melted  lead  poured  down  his 
nostrils,  if  the  good  old  Yedas  were  in  force  as  they  ought 
to  be." 

These  are  some  Boswelliana  of  Sydney,  not  very  clerical, 
you  will  say,  but  indescribably  amusing  to  the  hearers,  what- 
ever the  readers  may  think  of  them.  Nothing  can  present  a 
more  striking  contrast  to  his  rapid,  loud,  laughing  utterance, 
and  his  rector -like  amplitude  and  rubicundity,  than  the  low, 
slow,  emphatic  tone,  and  the  corpse-like  face  of  Rogers.  There 
is  as  great  a  difference  in  what  they  say  as  in  the  voice  and 
look  with  which  they  say  it.  The  conversation  of  Rogers  is 
remarkably  polished  and  artificial.  What  he  says  seems  to 
have  been  long  meditated,  and  might  be  published  with  little 


1830-'32.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  201 

correction.     Sydney  talks  from  the  impulse  of  the  moment, 
and  his  fun  is  quite  inexhaustible.     Ever  yours, 

T.  B.  M. 
To  Hannah  M.  Macaulay. 

London,  June  8th,  1831. 

MY  DEAR  SISTEE, — Yesterday  night  I  went  to  the  Jew's.  I 
had  indeed  no  excuse  for  forgetting  the  invitation  ;  for,  about 
a  week  after  I  had  received  the  green  varnished  billet  and  an- 
swered it,  came  another  in  the  self -same  words  and  addressed 
to  Mr.  Macaulay,  Jun.  I  thought  that  my  answer  had  mis- 
carried ;  so  down  I  sat,  and  composed  a  second  epistle  to  the 
Hebrews.  I  afterward  found  that  the  second  invitation  was 
meant  for  Charles. 

I  set  off  a  little  after  ten,  having  attired  myself  simply  as 
for  a  dinner-party.  The  house  is  a  very  fine  one.  The  door 
was  guarded  by  peace-officers  and  besieged  by  starers.  My 
host  met  me  in  a  superb  court-dress,  with  his  sword  at  his  side. 
There  was  a  most  sumptuous-looking  Persian,  covered  with 
gold  lace.  Then  there  was  an  Italian  bravo  with  a  long  beard. 
Two  old  gentlemen,  who  ought  to  have  been  wiser,  were  fools 
enough  to  come  in  splendid  Turkish  costumes  at  which  every 
body  laughed.  The  fancy  dresses  were  worn  almost  exclu- 
sively by  the  young  people.  The  ladies  for  the  most  part  con- 
tented themselves  with  a  few  flowers  and  ribbons  oddly  dis- 
posed. There  was,  however,  a  beautiful  Mary  Queen  of  Scots, 
who  looked  as  well  as  dressed  the  character  perfectly ;  an  angel 
of  a  Jewess  in  a  Highland  plaid ;  and  an  old  woman,  or  rather 
a  woman — for  through  her  disguise  it  was  impossible  to  as- 
certain her  age — in  the  absurdest  costume  of  the  last  century. 
These  good  people  soon  began  their  quadrilles  and  galopades, 
and  were  enlivened  by  all  the  noise  that  twelve  fiddlers  could 
make  for  their  lives. 

You  must  not  suppose  that  the  company  was  made  up  of 
these  mummers.  There  was  Dr.  Lardner,  and  Long,  the  Greek 
professor  in  the  London  University,  and  Sheil,  and  Strutt,  and 
Romilly,  and  Owen,  the  philanthropist.  Owen  laid  hold  on 
Sheil,  and  gave  him  a  lecture  on  -Co-operation  which  lasted  for 
half  an  hour.  At  last  Sheil  made  his  escape.  Then  Owen 


202  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  iv. 

seized  Mrs.  Slieil,  a  good  Catholic,  and  a  very  agreeable  woman, 
and  began  to  prove  to  her  that  there  could  be  no  such  thing  as 
moral  responsibility.  I  had  fled  at  the  first  sound  of  his  dis- 
course, and  was  talking  with  Strutt  and  Romilly,  when,  behold ! 
I  saw  Owen  leave  Mrs.  Sheil  and  come  toward  us.  So  I  cried 
out,  "  Sauve  qui  peut !"  and  we  rah  off.  But  before  we  had 
got  five  feet  from  where  we  were  standing,  who  should  meet 
us  face  to  face  but  old  Basil  Montagu  ?  "  Nay,  then,"  said  I, 
"the  game  is  up.  The  Prussians  are  on  our  rear.  If  we 
are  to  be  bored  to  death,  there  is  no  help  for  it."  Basil 
seized  Romilly ;  Owen  took  possession  of  Strutt ;  and  I  was 
blessing  myself  on  my  escape,  when  the  only  human  being 

worthy  to  make  a  third  with  such  a  pair,  J ,  caught  me 

by  the  arm,  and  begged  to  have  a  quarter  of  an  hour's  con- 
versation with  me.  While  I  was  suffering  under  J ,  a 

smart,  impudent -looking  young  dog,  dressed  like  a  sailor  in 
a  blue  jacket  and  check  shirt,  marched  up,  and  asked  a  Jew- 
ish-looking damsel  near  me  to  dance  with  him.  I  thought 
that  I  had  seen  the  fellow  before;  and,  after  a  little  look- 
ing, I  perceived  that  it  was  Charles ;  and  most  knowingly, 
I  assure  you,  did  he  perform  a  quadrille  with  Miss  Hilpah 
Manasses. 

If  I  were  to  tell  you  all  that  I  saw,  I  should  exceed  my 
ounce.  There  was  Martin,  the  painter,  and  Procter,  alias  Bar- 
ry Cornwall,  the  poet  or  poetaster.  I  did  not  see  one  peer, 
or  one  star,  except  a  foreign  order  or  two,  which  I  generally 
consider  as  an  intimation  to  look  to  my  pockets.  A  German 
knight*  is  a  dangerous  neighbor  in  a  crowd.  After  seeing 
a  galopade  very  prettily  danced  by  the  Israelitish  women,  I 
went  down-stairs,  reclaimed  my  hat,  and  walked  into  the  din- 
ing-room. There,  with  some  difficulty,  I  squeezed  myself  be- 
tween a  Turk  and  a  Bernese  peasant,  and  obtained  an  ice,  a 
macaroon,  and  glass  of  wine.  Charles  was  there,  very  active 
in  his  attendance  on  his  fair  Hilpah.  I  bid  him  good-night. 
"  What !"  said  young  hopeful,  "  are  you  going  yet  ?"  It  was 
near  one  o'clock ;  but  this  joyous  tar  seemed  to  think  it  im- 

*  Macaulay  ended  by  being  a  German  knight  himself. 


1830-'32.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  203 

possible  that  any  body  could  dream  of  leaving  such  delightful 
enjoyments  till  day-break.  I  left  him  staying  Hilpah  with 
flagons,  and  walked  quietly  home.  But  it  was  some  time  be- 
fore I  could  get  to  sleep.  The  sound  of  fiddles  was  in  mine 
ears,  and  gaudy  dresses,  and  black  hair,  and  Jewish  noses, 
were  fluctuating  up  and  down  before  mine  eyes. 

There  is  a  fancy  ball  for  you.  If  Charles  writes  a  history 
of  it,  tell  me  which  of  us  does  it  best.  Ever  yours, 

T.  B.  M. 
To  Hcmnah  M.  Macaulay. 

London,  June  lOtb,  1831. 

MY  DEAR  SISTER, — I  am  at  Basinghall  Street,  and  I  snatch 
this  quarter  of  an  hour,  the  only  quarter  of  an  hour  which  I 
am  likely  to  secure  during  the  day,  to  write  to  you.  I  will 
not  omit  writing  two  days  running,  because,  if  my  letters 
give  you  half  the  pleasure  which  your  letters  give  me,  you 
will,  I  am  sure,  miss  them.  I  have  not,  however,  much  to  tell. 
I  have  been  very  busy  with  my  article  on  Moore's  "  Life  of 
Byron."  I  never  wrote  any  thing  with  less  heart.  I  do  not 
like  the  book ;  I  do  not  like  the  hero :  I  have  said  the  most  I 
could  for  him,  and  yet  I  shall  be  abused  for  speaking  as  cold- 
ly of  him  as  I  have  done. 

I  dined  the  day  before  yesterday  at  Sir  George  Philips's 
with  Sotheby,  Morier,  the  author  of  "  Hadji  Baba,"  and  Sir 
James  Mackintosh.  Morier  began  to  quote  Latin  before  the 
ladies  had  left  the  room,  and  quoted  it  by  no  means  to  the 
purpose.  After  their  departure  he  fell  to  repeating  Virgil, 
choosing  passages  which  every  body  else  knows  and  does  not 
repeat.  lie,  though  he  tried  to  repeat  them,  did  not  know 
them,  and  could  not  get  on  without  my  prompting.  Sotheby 
was  full  of  his  translation  of  Homer's  "  Iliad,"  some  specimens 
of  which  he  has  already  published.  It  is  a  complete  failure ; 
more  literal  than  that  of  Pope,  but  still  tainted  with  the  deep 
radical  vice  of  Pope's  version — a  thoroughly  modern  and  ar- 
tificial manner.  It  bears  the  same  kind  of  relation  to  the 
"  Iliad "  that  Robertson's  narrative  bears  to  the  story  of  Jo- 
seph in  the  Book  of  Genesis. 

There  is  a  pretty  allegory  in  Homer — I  think  in  the  last 


204  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  iv. 

book,  but  I  forget  precisely  where — about  two  vessels,  the  one 
tilled  with  blessings  and  the  other  with  sorrow,  which  stand, 
says  the  poet,  on  the  right  and  left  hand  of  Jupiter's  throne, 
and  from  which  he  dispenses  good  and  evil  at  his  pleasure 
among  men.  What  word  to  use  for  these  vessels  has  long 
posed  the  translators  of  Homer.  Pope,  who  loves  to  be  fine, 
calls  them  urns.  Cowper,  who  loves  to  be  coarse,  calls  them 
casks — a  translation  more  improper  than  Pope's ;  for  a  cask 
is,  in  our  general  understanding,  a  wooden  vessel,  and  the 
Greek  word  means  an  earthen  vessel.  There  is  a  curious  let- 
ter of  Cowper's  to  one  of  his  female  correspondents  about 
this  unfortunate  word.  She  begged  that  Jupiter  might  be 
allowed  a  more  elegant  piece  of  furniture  for  his  throne  than 
a  cask.  But  Cowper  was  peremptory.  I  mentioned  this  in- 
cidentally when  we  were  talking  about  translations.  This  set 
Sotheby  off.  "  I,"  said  he,  "  have  translated  it  vase.  I  hope 
that  meets  your  ideas.  Don't  you  think  vase  will  do  ?  Does 
it  satisfy  you  ?"  I  told  him,  sincerely  enough,  that  it  satisfied 
me ;  for  I  must  be  most  unreasonable  to  be  dissatisfied  at  any 
thing  that  he  chooses  to  put  in  a  book  which  I  never  shall 
read.  Mackintosh  was  very  agreeable ;  and,  as  usually  hap- 
pens when  I  meet  him,  I  learned  something  from  him. 

The  great  topic  now  in  London  is  not,  as  you  perhaps  fan- 
cy, Reform,  but  Cholera.  There  is  a  great  panic ;  as  great  a 
panic  as  I  remember,  particularly  in  the  City.  Rice  shakes 
his  head,  and  says  that  this  is  the  most  serious  thing  that  has 
happened  in  his  time ;  and  assuredly,  if  the  disease  were  to 
rage  in  London  as  it  has  lately  raged  in  Riga,  it  would  be  dif- 
ficult to  imagine  any  thing  more  horrible.  I,  however,  feel 
no  uneasiness.  In  the  first  place,  I  have  a  strong  leaning  to- 
ward the  doctrines  of  the  anti-contagionists.  In  the  next 
place,  I  repose  a  great  confidence  in  the  excellent  food  and 
the  cleanliness  of  the  English. 

I  have  this  instant  received  your  letter  of  yesterday  with 
the  inclosed  proof-sheets.  Your  criticism  is  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent just;  but  you  have  not  considered  the  whole  sentence 
together.  Depressed  is  in  itself  better  than  iceighed  down; 
but  "  the  oppressive  privileges  which  had  depressed  industry  " 


1830-'32.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  205 

would  be  a  horrible  cacophony.  I  hope  that  word  convinces 
you.  I  have  often  observed  that  a  fine  Greek  compound  is 
an  excellent  substitute  for  a  reason. 

I  met  Rogers  at  the  Athenaeum.  He  begged  me  to  break- 
fast with  him,  and  name  my  day,  and  promised  that  he  would 
procure  me  as  agreeable  a  party  as  he  could  find  in  London. 
Very  kind  of  the  old  man,  is  it  not  ?  and,  if  you  knew  how 
Rogers  is  thought  of,  you  would  think  it  as  great  a  compli- 
ment as  could  be  paid  to  a  duke.  Have  you  seen  what  the 
author  of  "  The  Young  Duke "  says  about  me ;  how  rabid  I 
am,  and  how  certain  I  am  to  rat  ?  Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

Macaulay's  account  of  the  allusion  to  himself  in  "  The  Young 
Duke  "  is  perfectly  accurate ;  and  yet,  when  read  as  a  whole, 
the  passage*  in  question  does  not  appear  to  have  been  ill-nat- 
uredly meant.  It  is  much  what  any  young  literary  man  out- 
side the  House  of  Commons  might  write  of  another  who  had 
only  been  inside  that  House  for  a  few  weeks ;  and  it  was  prob- 
ably forgotten  by  the  author  within  twenty-four  hours  after 
the  ink  was  dry.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  commentators  of 
the  future  will  not  treat  it  as  an  authoritative  record  of  Mr. 
Disraeli's  estimate  of  Lord  Macaulay's  political  character. 

To  Hannah  M.  Macaulay. 

London,  June  25th,  1831. 

MY  DEAR  SISTER, — There  was,  as  you  will  see,  no  debate 
on  Lord  John  Russell's  motion.  The  Reform  Bill  is  to  be 
brought  in,  read  once,  and  printed,  without  discussion.  The 
contest  will  be  on  the  second  reading,  and  will  be  protracted, 
I  should  think,  through  the  whole  of  the  week  after  next — 
next  week  it  will  be,  when  you  read  this  letter. 

*  "  I  hear  that  Mr.  Babington  Macaulay  is  to  be  returned.  If  he  speaks 
half  as  well  as  he  writes,  the  Htinse  will  be  in  fashion  again.  I  fear  that 
he  is  one  of  those  who,  like  the  individual  whom  he  has  most  studied,  will 
give  up  to  a  party  what  was  meant  for  mankind.  At  any  rate,  he  must 
get  rid  of  his  rabidity.  He  writes  now  on  all  subjects  as  if  he  certainly  in- 
tended to  be  a  renegade,  and  was  determined  to  make  the  contrast  com- 
plete."— The  Young  Duke,  book  v.,  chap.  vi. 


206  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  iv. 

I  breakfasted  with  Rogers  yesterday.  There  was  nobody 
there  but  Moore.  We  were  all  on  the  most  friendly  and  fa- 
miliar terms  possible ;  and  Moore,  who  is,  Rogers  tells  me,  ex- 
cessively pleased  with  my  review  of  his  book,  showed  me  very 
marked  attention.  I  was  forced  to  go  away  early  on  account 
of  bankrupt  business ;  but  Rogers  said  that  we  must  have  the 
talk  out ;  so  we  are  to  meet  at  his  house  again  to  breakfast. 
What  a  delightful  house  it  is!  It  looks  out  on  the  Green 
Park  just  at  the  most  pleasant  point.  The  furniture  has  been 
selected  with  a  delicacy  of  taste  quite  unique.  Its  value  does 
not  depend  on  fashion,  but  must  be  the  same  while  the  fine 
arts  are  held  in  any  esteem.  In  the  drawing-room,  for  exam- 
ple, the  chimney-pieces  are  carved  by  Flaxman  into  the  most 
beautiful  Grecian  forms.  The  book-case  is  painted  by  Stoth- 
ard,  in  his  very  best  manner,  with  groups  from  Chaucer, 
Shakspeare,  and  Boccaccio.  The  pictures  are  not  numerous ; 
but  every  one  is  excellent.  In  the  dining-room  there  are  also 
some  beautiful  paintings.  But  the  three  most  remarkable 
objects  in  that  room  are,  I  think,  a  cast  of  Pope  taken  after 
death  by  Roubiliac ;  a  noble  model  in  terra-cotta  by  Michael 
Angelo,  from  which  he  afterward  made  one  of  his  finest  stat- 
ues, that  of  Lorenzo  de'  Medici ;  and,  lastly,  a  mahogany  table 
on  which  stands  an  antique  vase. 

When  Chantrey  dined  with  Rogers  some  time  ago,  he  took 
particular  notice  of  the  vase,  and  the  table  on  which  it  stands, 
and  asked  Rogers  who  made  the  table.  "A  common  carpen- 
ter," said  Rogers.  "Do  you  remember  the  making  of  it?" 
said  Chantrey.  "  Certainly,"  said  Rogers,  in  some  surprise : 
"I  was  in  the  room  while  it  was  finished  with  the  chisel, 
and  gave  the  workman  directions  about  placing  it."  "  Yes," 
said  Chantrey,  "  I  was  the  carpenter.  I  remember  the  room 
well  and  all  the  circumstances."  A  curious  story,  I  think, 
honorable  both  to  the  talent  which  raised  Chantrey,  and  to 
the  magnanimity  which  kept  him  from  being  ashamed  of  what 
he  had  been.  Ever  yours  affectionately,  T.  B.  M. 


1830-'32.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  207 

To  Hannah  M.  Macaulay. 

London,  June  29th,  1831. 

MY  DEAK  SISTER, — We  are  not  yet  in  the  full  tide  of  Parlia- 
mentary business.  Next  week  the  debates  will  be  warm  and 
long.  I  should  not  wonder  if  we  had  a  discussion  of  five 
nights.  I  shall  probably  take  a  part  in  it. 

I  have  breakfasted  again  with  Rogers.  The  party  was  a 
remarkable  one — Lord  John  Russell,  Tom  Moore,  Tom  Camp- 
bell, and  Luttrell.  We  were  all  very  lively.  An  odd  inci- 
dent took  place  after  breakfast,  while  we  were  standing  at  the 
window  and  looking  into  the  Green  Park.  Somebody  was 
talking  about  diners-out.  "Ay,"  said  Campbell — 

"'Ye  diners-out  from  whom  we  guard  our  spoons.'" 

Tom  Moore  asked  where  the  line  was.  "  Don't  you  know  ?" 
said  Campbell.  "  Not  I,"  said  Moore.  "  Surely,"  said  Camp- 
bell, "it  is  your  own."  "I  never  saw  it  in  my  life,"  said 
Moore.  " It  is  in  one  of  your  best  things  in  the  Times"  said 
Campbell.  Moore  denied  it.  Hereupon  I  put  in  my  claim, 
and  told  them  that  it  was  mine.  Do  you  remember  it  ?  It  is 
in  some  lines  called  the  "  Political  Georgics,"  which  I  sent  to 
the  Times  about  three  years  ago.  They  made  me  repeat  the 
lines,  and  were  vociferous  in  praise  of  them.  Tom  Moore 
then  said,  oddly  enough, "  There  is  another  poem  in  the  Times 
that  I  should  like  to  know  the  author  of,  'A  Parson's  Account 
of  his  Journey  to  the  Cambridge  Election.' "  I  laid  claim  to 
that  also.  "  That  is  curious,"  said  Moore.  "  I  begged  Barnes 
to  tell  me  who  wrote  it.  He  said  that  he  had  received  it  from 
Cambridge,  and  touched  it  up  himself,  and  pretended  that  all 
the  best  strokes  were  his.  I  believed  that  he  was  lying,  be- 
cause I  never  knew  him  to  make  a  good  joke  in  his  life. 
And  now  the  murder  is  out."  They  asked  me  whether  I 
had  put  any  thing  else  in  the  Times.  Nothing,  I  said,  ex- 
cept the  "  Sortes  Virgilianae,"  which  Lord  John  remembered 
well.  I  never  mentioned  the  "  Cambridge  Journey "  or  the 
"Georgics"  to  any  but  my  own  family;  and  I  was  there- 
fore, as  you  may  conceive,  not  a  little  flattered  to  hear  in  one 


208  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  iv. 

day  Moore  praising  one  of  them,  and  Campbell  praising  the 
other. 

I  find  that  my  article  on  Byron  is  very  popular,  one  among 
a  thousand  proofs  of  the  bad  taste  of  the  public.  I  am  to 
review  Croker's  edition  of  Bozzy.  It  is  wretchedly  ill  done. 
The  notes  are  poorly  written  and  shamefully  inaccurate. 
There  is,  however,  much  curious  information  in  it.  The 
whole  of  "The  Tour  to  the  Hebrides"  is  incorporated  with 
"The  Life."  So  are  most  of  Mrs.  Thrale's  anecdotes,  and 
much  of  Sir  John  Hawkins's  lumbering  book.  The  whole 
makes  five  large  volumes.  There  is  a  most  laughable  sketch 
of  Bozzy,  taken  by  Sir  T.  Lawrence,  when  young.  I  never 
saw  a  character  so  thoroughly  hit  off.  I  intend  the  book  for 
you  when  I  have  finished  my  criticism  on  it.  You  are,  next 
to  myself,  the  best- read  Boswellite  that  I  know.  The  lady 
whom  Johnson  abused  for  flattering  him*  was  certainly,  ac- 
cording to  Croker,  Hannah  More.  Another  ill-natured  sen- 
tence about  a  Bath  ladyf  whom  Johnson  called  "  empty-head- 
ed "  is  also  applied  to  your  godmother.  Ever  yours, 

T.  B.  M. 

To  Hannah  M.  Macaulay. 

London,  July  6th,  1831. 

MY  DEAR  SISTEK, — I  have  been  so  busy  during  the  last  two 
or  three  days  that  I  have  found  no  time  to  write  to  you.  I 
have  now  good  news  for  you.  I  spoke  yesterday  night  with  a 
success  beyond  my  utmost  expectations.  I  am  half  ashamed  to 
tell  you  the  compliments  which  I  have  received  ;  but  you  well 
know  that  it  is  not  from  vanity,  but  to  give  you  pleasure,  that 
I  tell  you  what  is  said  about  me.  Lord  Althorp  told  me  twice 
that  it  was  the  best  speech  he  had  ever  heard ;  Graham,  and 
Stanley,  and  Lord  John  Russell  spoke  of  it  in  the  same  way ; 
and  O'Connell  followed  me  out  of  the  House  to  pay  me  the 
most  enthusiastic  compliments.  I  delivered  my  speech  much 

*  See  Boswell's  "Life  of  Johnson,"  April  15th,  1778. 
t  "  He  would  not  allow  me  to  praise  a  lady  then  at  Bath,  observing, '  She 
does  not  gain  upon  me,  sir ;  I  think  her  empty -headed.' " 


1830-'32.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  209 

more  slowly  than  any  that  I  have  before  made,  and  it  is,  in 
consequence,  better  reported  than  its  predecessors,  though  not 
well.  I  send  you  several  papers.  You  will  see  some  civil 
things  in  the  leading  articles  of  some  of  them.  My  greatest 
pleasure  in  the  midst  of  all  this  praise  is  to  think  of  the  pleas- 
ure which  my  success  will  give  to  my  father  and  my  sisters. 
It  is  happy  for  me  that  ambition  has  in  my  mind  been  soft- 
ened into  a  kind  of  domestic  feeling,  and  that  affection  has  at 
least  as  much  to  do  as  vanity  with  my  wish  to  distinguish  my- 
self. This  I  owe  to  my  dear  mother,  and  to  the  interest  which 
she  always  took  in  my  childish  successes.  From  my  earliest 
years  the  gratification  of  those  whom  I  love  has  been  asso- 
ciated with  the  gratification  of  my  own  thirst  for  fame,  until 
the  two  have  become  inseparably  joined  in  my  mind. 

Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

To  Hannah  M.  Macaulay. 

London,  July  8th,  1831. 

MY  DEAR  SISTER, — Do  you  want  to  hear  all  the  compliments 
that  are  paid  to  me  ?  I  shall  never  end,  if  I  stuff  my  letters 
with  them;  for  I  meet  nobody  who  does  not  give  me  joy. 
Baring  tells  me  that  I  ought  never  to  speak  again.  Howick 
sent  a  note  to  me  yesterday  to  say  that  his  father  wished  very 
much  to  be  introduced  to  me,  and  asked  me  to  dine  with  them 
yesterday,  as  by  great  good  luck  there  was  nothing  to  do  in 
the  House  of  Commons.  At  seven  I  went  to  Downing  Street, 
where  Earl  Grey's  official  residence  stands.  It  is  a  noble 
house.  There  are  two  splendid  drawing-rooms  which  overlook 
St.  James's  Park.  Into  these  I  was  shown.  The  servant  told 
me  that  Lord  Grey  was  still  at  the  House  of  Lords,  and  that 
her  ladyship  had  just  gone  to  dress.  Howick  had  not  men- 
tioned the  hour  in  his  note.  I  sat  down,  and  turned  over  two 
large  port-folios  of  political  caricatures.  Earl  Grey's  own  face 
was  in  every  print.  I  was  very  much  diverted.  I  had  seen 
some  of  them  before ;  but  many  were  new  to  me,  and  their 
merit  is  extraordinary.  They  were  the  caricatures  of  that  re- 
markably able  artist  who  calls  himself  H.  B.  In  about  half 
an  hour  Lady  Georgiana  Grey,  and  the  countess,  made  their 

YOL.  I.— 14 


210  LIFE  AXD  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  iv. 

appearance.  We  had  some  pleasant  talk,  and  they  made  many 
apologies.  The  earl,  they  said,  was  unexpectedly  delayed  by 
a  question  which  had  arisen  in  the  Lords.  Lady  Holland  ar- 
rived soon  after,  and  gave  me  a  most  gracious  reception,  shook 
my  hand  very  warmly,  and  told  me  in  her  imperial,  decisive 
manner  that  she  had  talked  with  all  the  principal  men  on  our 
side  about  my  speech,  that  they  all  agreed  that  it  was  the  best 
that  had  been  made  since  the  death  of  Fox,  and  that  it  was 
more  like  Fox's  speaking  than  any  body's  else.  Then  she  told 
me  that  I  was  too  much  worked,  that  I  must  go  out  of  town, 
and  absolutely  insisted  on  my  going  to  Holland  House  to  dine 
and  take  a  bed  on  the  next  day  on  which  there  is  no  Parlia- 
mentary business.  At  eight  we  went  to  dinner.  Lord  Ho- 
wick  took  his  father's  place,  and  we  feasted  very  luxuriously. 
At  nine  Lord  Grey  came  from  the  House,  with  Lord  Durham, 
Lord  Holland,  and  the  Duke  of  Richmond.  They  dined  on 
the  remains  of  our  dinner  with  great  expedition,  as  they  had 
to  go  to  a  cabinet  council  at  ten.  Of  course  I  had  scarcely  any 
talk  with  Lord  Grey.  He  was,  however,  extremely  polite  to  me, 
and  so  were  his  colleagues.  I  liked  the  ways  of  the  family. 

I  picked  up  some  news  from  these  cabinet  ministers.  There 
is  to  be  a  coronation  on  quite  a  new  plan :  no  banquet  in 
Westminster  Hall,  no  feudal  services,  no  champion,  no  proces- 
sion from  the  Abbey  to  the  Hall  and  back  again.  But  there 
is  to  be  a  service  in  the  Abbey.  All  the  peers  are  to  come  in 
state  and  in  their  robes,  and  the  king  is  to  take  the  oaths,  and 
be  crowned  and  anointed,  in  their  presence.  The  spectacle 
will  be  finer  than  usual  to  the  multitude  out-of-doors.  The 
few  hundreds  who  could  obtain  admittance  to  the  Hall  will  be 
the  only  losers.  Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

To  Hannah  M.  Macavlay. 

London,  July  llth,  1831. 

MY  DEAR  SISTER, — Since  I  wrote  to  you  1  have  been  out  to 
dine  and  sleep  at  Holland  House.  We  had  a  very  agreeable 
and  splendid  party ;  among  others,  the  Duke  and  Duchess  of 
Richmond,  and  the  Marchioness  of  Clanricarde,  who,  you 
know,  is  the  daughter  of  Canning.  She  is  very  beautiful,  and 


1830-'32.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  211 

very  like  her  father,  with  eyes  full  of  fire,  and  great  expression 
in  all  her  features.  She  and  I  had  a  great  deal  of  talk.  She 
showed  much  cleverness  and  information,  but,  I  thought,  a 
little  more  of  political  animosity  than  is  quite  becoming  in  a 
pretty  woman.  However,  she  has  been  placed  in  peculiar  cir- 
cumstances. The  daughter  of  a  statesman  who  was  a  martyr 
to  the  rage  of  faction  may  be  pardoned  for  speaking  sharply 
of  the  enemies  of  her  parent:  and  she  did  speak  sharply. 
With  knitted  brows,  and  flashing  eyes,  and  a  look  of  feminine 
vengeance  about  her  beautiful  mouth,  she  gave  me  such  a 
character  of  Peel  as  he  would  certainly  have  had  no  pleasure 
in  hearing. 

In  the  evening  Lord  John  Russell  came ;  and,  soon  after, 
old  Talleyrand.  I  had  seen  Talleyrand  in  very  large  parties, 
but  had  never  been  near  enough  to  hear  a  word  that  he  said. 
I  now  had  the  pleasure  of  listening  for  an  hour  and  a  half  to 
his  conversation.  He  is  certainly  the  greatest  curiosity  that 
I  ever  fell  in  with.  His  head  is  sunk  down  between  two 
high  shoulders.  One  of  his  feet  is  hideously  distorted.  His 
face  is  as  pale  as  that  of  a  corpse,  and  wrinkled  to  a  fright- 
ful degree.  His  eyes  have  an  odd  glassy  stare  quite  peculiar 
to  them.  His  hair,  thickly  powdered  and  pomatumed,  hangs 
down  his  shoulders  on  each  side  as  straight  as  a  pound  of  tal- 
low-candles. His  conversation,  however,  soon  makes  you  for- 
get his  ugliness  and  infirmities.  There  is  a  poignancy  with- 
out effort  in  all  that  he  says,  which  reminded  me  a  little  of 
the  character  which  the  wits  of  Johnson's  circle  give  of  Beau- 
clerk.  For  example,  we  talked  about  Metternich  and  Car- 
dinal Mazarin.  "  J'y  trouve  beaucoup  &  redire.  Le  cardinal 
trompait ;  mais  il  ne  mentait  pas.  Or  M.  de  Metternich  ment 
toujours,  et  ne  trompe  jamais."  He  mentioned  M.  de  Saint- 
Aulaire — now  one  of  the  most  distinguished  public  men  of 
France.  I  said :  "  M.  de  Saint-Aulaire  est  beau-p&re  de  M.  le 
due  de  Cazes,  n'est-ce  pas  ?"  "  Non,  monsieur,"  said  Talley- 
rand ;  "  Ton  disait,  il  y  a  douze  ans,  que  M.  de  Saint-Aulaire 
etait  beau-pere*  de  M.  de  Cazes ;  1'on  dit  maintenant  que  M. 

*  This  saying  remained  in  Macaulay's  mind.     He  quotes  it  on  the  mar- 


212  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  iv. 

de  Gazes  est  gendre  de  M.  de  Saint-Aulaire."  It  was  not  easy 
to  describe  the  change  in  the  relative  positions  of  two  men 
more  tersely  and  more  sharply  ;  and  these  remarks  were  made 
in  the  lowest  tone,  and  without  the  slightest  change  of  mus- 
cle, just  as  if  he  had  been  remarking  that  the  day  was  fine. 
He  added :  "  M.  de  Saint-Aulaire  a  beaucoup  d'esprit.  Mais 
il  est  devot,  et,  ce  qui  pis  est,  devot  honteux.  II  va  se  cacher 
dans  quelque  hameau  pour  faire  ses  Paques."  This  was  a  cu- 
rious remark  from  a  bishop.  He  told  several  stories  about 
the  political  men  of  France :  not  of  any  great  value  in  them- 
selves :  but  his  way  of  telling  them  was  beyond  all  praise ; 
concise,  pointed,  and  delicately  satirical.  When  he  had  de- 
parted, I  could  not  help  breaking,  out  into  admiration  of  his 
talent  for  relating  anecdotes.  Lady  Holland  said  that  he  had 
been  considered  for  nearly  forty  years  as  the  best  teller  of  a 
story  in  Europe,  and  that  there  was  certainly  nobody  like  him 
in  that  respect. 

When  the  prince  was  gone  we  went  to  bed.  In  the  morn- 
ing Lord  John  Russell  drove  me  back  to  London  in  his  cab- 
riolet, much  amused  with  what  I  had  seen  and  heard.  But  I 
must  stop.  Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

To  Hannah  M.  Macaulay. 

Basinghall  Street,  July  15th,  1831. 

MY  DEAR  SISTER, — The  rage  of  faction  at  the  present  mo- 
ment exceeds  any  thing  that  has  been  known  in  our  day.  In- 
deed, I  doubt  whether,  at  the  time  of  Mr.  Pitt's  first  becoming 
premier,  at  the  time  of  Sir  Robert  Walpole's  fall,  or  even  dur- 
ing the  desperate  struggles  between  the  Whigs  and  Tories  at 
the  close  of  Anne's  reign,  the  fury  of  party  was  so  fearfully 
violent.  Lord  Mahon  said  to  me  yesterday  that  friendships 
of  long  standing  were  everywhere  giving  way,  and  that  the 
schism  between  the  reformers  and  the  anti  -  reformers  was 
spreading  from  the  House  of  Commons  into  every  private 

gin  of  his  Aulns  Gellius  as  an  illustration  of  the  passage  in  the  nineteenth 
book  in  which  Julius  Caesar  is  described,  absurdly  enough,  as  "  perpetuns 
ille  dictator,  Cneii  Pompeii  socer." 


1830-'32.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  213 

circle.    Lord  Mahon  himself  is  an  exception.    He  and  I  are  on 
excellent  terms.     But  Praed  and  I  become  colder  every  day. 

The  scene  of  Tuesday  night  beggars  description.  I  left  the 
House  at  about  three,  in  consequence  of  some  expressions  of 
Lord  Althorp's  which  indicated  that  the  ministry  was  inclined 
to  yield  on  the  question  of  going  into  committee  on  the  bill. 
I  afterward  much  regretted  that  I  had  gone  away ;  not  that 
my  presence  was  necessary,  but  because  I  should  have  liked 
to  have  sat  through  so  tremendous  a  storm.  Toward  eight  in 
the  morning  the  Speaker  was  almost  fainting.  The  minis- 
terial members,  however,  were  as  true  as  steel.  They  fur- 
nished the  ministry  with  the  resolution  which  it  wanted.  "  If 
the  noble  lord  yields,"  said  one  of  our  men,  "  all  is  lost."  Old 
Sir  Thomas  Baring  sent  for  his  razor,  and  Benett,  the  member 
for  Wiltshire,  for  his  night-cap ;  and  they  were  both  resolved 
to  spend  the  whole  day  in  the  House  rather  than  give  way. 
If  the  opposition  had  not  yielded,  in  two  hours  half  London 
would  have  been  in  Old  Palace  Yard. 

Since  Tuesday  the  Tories  have  been  rather  cowed.  But 
their  demeanor,  though  less  outrageous  than  at  the  beginning 
of  the  week,  indicates  what  would  in  any  other  time  be  called 
extreme  violence.  I  have  not  been  once  in  bed  till  three  in 
the  morning  since  last  Sunday.  To-morrow  we  have  a  holi- 
day. I  dine  at  Lansdowne  House.  Next  week  I  dine  with 
Littleton,  the  member  for  Staffordshire,  and  his  handsome 
wife.  He  told  me  that  I  should  meet  two  men  whom  I  am 
curious  to  see — Lord  Plunket  and  the  Marquess  Wellesley : 
let  alone  the  Chancellor,  who  is  not  a  novelty  to  me. 

Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

To  Hcmnah  M.  Macaulay. 

London,  July  25th,  1831. 

MY  DEAR  SISTEK, — On  Saturday  evening  I  went  to  Holland 
House.  There  I  found  the  Dutch  Embassador,  M.  de  Weis- 
sembourg,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Yernon  Smith,  and  Admiral  Adam, 
a  son  of  the  old  Adam  who  fought  the  duel  with  Fox.  We 
dined  like  emperors,  and  jabbered  in  several  languages.  Her 
ladyship,  for  an  esprit  fort,  is  the  greatest  coward  that  I  ever 


214  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  iv. 

saw.  The  last  time  that  I  was  there  she  was  frightened  out 
of  her  wits  by  the  thunder.  She  closed  all  the  shutters,  drew 
all  the  curtains,  and  ordered  candles  in  broad  day  to  keep  out 
the  lightning,  or  rather  the  appearance  of  the  lightning.  On 
Saturday  she  was  in  a  terrible  taking  about  the  cholera ;  talk- 
ed of  nothing  else ;  refused  to  eat  any  ice,  because  somebody 
said  that  ice  was  bad  for  the  cholera ;  was  sure  that  the  chol- 
era was  at  Glasgow;  and  asked  me  why  a  cordon  of  troops 
was  not  instantly  placed  around  that  town  to  prevent  all  in- 
tercourse between  the  infected  and  the  healthy  spots.  Lord 
Holland  made  light  of  her  fears.  He  is  a  thoroughly  good- 
natured,  open,  sensible  man ;  very  lively ;  very  intellectual ; 
well  read  in  politics,  and  in  the  lighter  literature  both  of  an- 
cient and  modern  times.  He  sets  me  more  at  ease  than  al- 
most any  person  that  I  know  by  a  certain  good-humored  way 
of  contradicting  that  he  has.  He  always  begins  by  drawing 
down  his  shaggy  eyebrows,  making  a  face  extremely  like  his 
uncle,  wagging  his  head,  and  saying:  "Now  do  you  know, 
Mr.  Macaulay,  I  do  not  quite  see  that.  How  do  you  make  it 
out  ?"  He  tells  a  story  delightfully,  and  bears  the  pain  of  his 
gout,  and  the  confinement  and  privations  to  which  it  subjects 
him,  with  admirable  fortitude  and  cheerfulness.  Her  lady- 
ship is  all  courtesy  and  kindness  to  me;  but  her  demeanor 
to  some  others,  particularly  to  poor  Allen,  is  such  as  it  quite 
pains  me  to  witness.  He  is  really  treated  like  a  negro  slave. 
"  Mr.  Allen,  go  into  my  drawing-room  and  bring  my  reticule." 
"  Mr.  Allen,  go  and  see  what  can  be  the  matter  that  they  do 
not  bring  up  dinner."  "  Mr.  Allen,  there  is  not  enough  turtle- 
soup  for  you.  You  must  take  gravy-soup  or  none."  Yet  I 
can,  scarcely  pity  the  man.  He  has  an  independent  income, 
and  if  he  can  stoop  to  be  ordered  about  like  a  footman;  I  can 
not  so  much  blame  her  for  the  contempt  with  which  she  treats 
him.  Perhaps  I  may  write  again  to-morrow.  Ever  yours, 

T.  B.  M. 
To  Hannah  Jtf.  Macaulay. 

Library  of  the  House  of  Commons,  July  26th,  1831. 
MY  DEAR  SISTER, — Here  I  am  seated,  waiting  for  the  debate 
on  the  borough  of  St.  Germains  with  a  very  quiet  party — Lord 


1830-'32.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  215 

Milton,  Lord  Tavistock,  and  George  Lamb.  But,  instead  of 
telling  you  in  dramatic  form*  my  conversations  with  cabinet 
ministers,  I  shall,  I  think,  go  back  two  or  three  days,  and  com- 
plete the  narrative  which  I  left  imperfect  in  my  epistle  of 
yesterday. 

At  half -after  seven  on  Sunday  I  was  set  down  at  Littleton's 
palace,  for  such  it  is,  in  Grosvenor  Place.  It  really  is  a  no- 
ble house ;  four  superb  drawing-rooms  on  the  first  floor  hung 
round  with  some  excellent  pictures — a  Hobbema  (the  finest 
by  that  artist  in  the  world,  it  is  said),  and  Lawrence's  charm- 
ing portrait  of  Mrs.  Littleton.  The  beautiful  original,  by-the- 
bye,  did  not  make  her  appearance.  We  were  a  party  of  gen- 
tlemen. But  such  gentlemen !  Listen,  and  be  proud  of  your 
connection  with  one  who  is  admitted  to  eat  and  drink  in  the 
same  room  with  beings  so  exalted.  There  were  two  chan- 
cellors, Lord  Brougham  and  Lord  Plunket.  There  was  Earl 
Gower ;  Lord  St.  Vincent ;  Lord  Seaf ord ;  Lord  Duncannon ; 
Lord  Ebrington;  Sir  James  Graham;  Sir  John  Newport; 
the  two  secretaries  of  the  treasury,  Rice  and  Ellice ;  George 
Lamb;  Denison;  and  half  a  dozen  more  lords  and  distin- 
guished commoners,  not  to  mention  Littleton  himself.  Till 

*  This  refers  to  a  passage  in  a  former  letter,  likewise  written  from  the 
Library  of  the  House. 

"'Macaulay!'  Who  calls  Macaulay?  Sir  James  Graham.  What  can 
he  have  to  say  to  me  ?  Take  it  dramatically  : 

"SirJ.G.  Macaulay! 

"Macaulay.  What! 

"  Sir  J.  G.  Whom  are  you  writing  to,  that  you  laugh  so  much  over  your 
letter  ? 

"  Macaulay.  To  my  constituents  at  Calue,  to  be  sure.  They  expect  news 
of  the  Reform  Bill  every  day. 

"  Sir  J.  G.  Well,  writing  to  constituents  is  less  of  a  plague  to  you  than 
to  most  people,  to  judge  by  your  face. 

"  Macaulay.  How  do  you  know  that  I  am  not  writing  a  billetdoux  to  a 
lady? 

"  Sir  J.  G.  You  look  more  like  it,  by  Jove ! 

"  Cutler  Fergusson,  M.P.  for  Kirkcudbright.  Let  ladies  and  constituents 
alone,  and  come  into  the  House.  We  are  going  on  to  the  case  of  the  bor- 
ough of  Great  Bedwiu  immediately." 


216  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  iv. 

last  year  he  lived  in  Portman  Square.  When  he  changed  his 
residence  his  servants  gave  him  warning.  They  could  not, 
they  said,  consent  to  go  into  such  an  unheard-of  part  of  the 
world  as  Grosvenor  Place.  I  can  only  say  that  I  have  never 
been  in  a  finer  house  than  Littleton's,  Lansdowne  House  ex- 
cepted,  and  perhaps  Lord  Milton's,  which  is  also  in  Grosvenor 
Place.  He  gave  me  a  dinner  of  dinners.  I  talked  with  Den- 
ison,  and  with  nobody  else.  I  have  found  out  that  the  real 
use  of  conversational  powers  is  to  put  them  forth  in  tete-a-tete. 
A  man  is  flattered  by  your  talking  your  best  to  him  alone. 
Ten  to  one  he  is  piqued  by  your  overpowering  him  before  a 
company.  Denison  was  agreeable  enough.  I  heard  only  one 
word  from  Lord  Plunket,  who  was  remarkably  silent.  He 
spoke  of  Doctor  Thorpe,  and  said  that,  having  heard  the  doc- 
tor in  Dublin,  he  should  like  to  hear  him  again  in  London. 
" Nothing  easier,"  quoth  Littleton ;  "  his  chapel  is  only  two 
doors  off ;  and  he  will  be  just  mounting  the  pulpit."  "  No," 
said  Lord  Plunket ;  "  I  can't  lose  my  dinner."  An  excellent 
saying,  though  one  which  a  less  able  man  than  Lord  Plunket 
might  have  uttered. 

At  midnight  I  walked  away  with  George  Lamb,  and  went 
— where,  for  a  ducat  ?  "  To  bed,"  says  Miss  Hannah.  Nay, 
my  sister,  not  so  ;  but  to  Brooks's.  There  I  found  Sir  James 
Macdonald ;  Lord  Duncannon,  who  had  left  Littleton's  just 
before  us ;  and  many  other  Whigs  and  ornaments  of  human 
nature.  As  Macdonald  and  I  were  rising  to  depart  we  saw 
Rogers,  and  I  went  to  shake  hands  with  him.  You  can  not 
think  how  kind  the  old  man  was  to  me.  He  shook  my  hand 
over  and  over,  and  told  me  that  Lord  Plunket  longed  to  see 
me  in  a  quiet  way,  and  that  he  would  arrange  a  breakfast- 
party  in  a  day  or  two  for  that  purpose. 

Away  I  went  from  Brooks's — but  whither  ?     "  To  bed  now, 
I  am  sure,"  says  little  Anne.     No,  but  on  a  walk  with  Sir 
James  Macdonald  to  the  end  of  Sloane  Street,  talking  about 
the  Ministry,  the  Kef  orm  Bill,  and  the  East  India  question. 
Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 


1830-'32.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  21 T 

To  Hannah  M.  Macaulay. 

House  of  Commons  Smoking-room,  Saturday. 

MY  DEAR  SISTER, — The  newspapers  will  have  explained  the 
reason  of  our  sitting  to-day.  At  three  this  morning  I  left  the 
House.  At  two  this  afternoon  I  have  returned  to  it,  with  the 
thermometer  at  boiling-heat,  and  four  hundred  and  fifty  peo- 
ple stowed  together  like  negroes  in  the  pious  John  Newton's 
slave-ship.  I  have  accordingly  left  Sir  Francis  Burdett  on  his 
legs,  and  repaired  to  the  smoking-room ;  a  large,  wainscoted, 
uncarpeted  place,  with  tables  covered  with  green  baize  and 
writing  materials.  On  a  full  night  it  is  generally  thronged 
toward  twelve  o'clock  with  smokers.  It  is  then  a  perfect 
cloud  of  fume.  There  have  I  seen  (tell  it  not  to  the  West  In- 
dians) Buxton  blowing  fire  out  of  his  mouth.  My  father  will 
not  believe  it.  At  present,  however,  all  the  doors  and  win- 
dows are  open,  and  the  room  is  pure  enough  from  tobacco  to 
suit  my  father  himself. 

Get  Blackwood's  new  number.  There  is  a  description  of 
me  in  it.  What  do  you  think  he  says  that  I  am  ?  "A  little, 

t/  «/ 

splay-footed,  ugly,  dumpling  of  a  fellow,  with  a  mouth  from 
ear  to  ear."  Conceive  how  such  a  charge  must  affect  a  man 
so  enamored  of  his  own  beauty  as  I  am. 

I  said  a  few  words  the  other  night.  They  were  merely  in 
reply,  and  quite  unpremeditated,  and  were  not  ill  received.  I 
feel  that  much  practice  will  be  necessary  to  make  me  a  good 
debater, on  points  of  detail,  but  my  friends  tell  me  that  I  have 
raised  my  reputation  by  showing  that  I  was  quite  equal  to  the 
work  of  extemporaneous  reply.  My  manner,  they  say,  is  cold 
and  wants  care.  I  feel  this  myself.  Nothing  but  strong  ex- 
citement and  a  great  occasion  overcomes  a  certain  reserve  and 
mawoaise  honte  which  I  have  in  public  speaking  ;  not  a  mau- 
vaise  honte  which  in  the  least  confuses  me  or  makes  me  hesi- 
tate for  a  word,  but  which  keeps  me  from  putting  any  fervor 
into  my  tone  or  my  action.  This  is  perhaps  in  some  respects 
an  advantage ;  for,  when  I  do  warm,  I  am  the  most  vehement 
speaker  in  the  House,  and  nothing  strikes  an  audience  so  much 
as  the  animation  of  an  orator  who  is  generally  cold. 


218  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  iv. 

I  ought  to  tell  you  that  Peel  was  very  civil,  and  cheered  me 
loudly ;  and  that  impudent,  leering  Croker  congratulated  the 
House  on  the  proof  which  I  had  given  of  my  readiness.  He 
was  afraid,  he  said,  that  I  had  been  silent  so  long  on  account 
of  the  many  allusions  which  had  been  made  to  Calne.  Now 
that  I  had  risen  again  he  hoped  that  they  should  hear  me  oft- 
en. See  whether  I  do  not  dust  that  varlet's  jacket  for  him 
in  the  next  number  of  the  Blue  and  Yellow.*  I  detest  him 
more  than  cold  boiled  veal. 

After  the  debate  I  walked  about  the  streets  with  Bulwer 
till  nearly  three  o'clock.  I  spoke  to  him  about  his  novels  with 
perfect  sincerity,  praising  warmly,  and  criticising  freely.  He 
took  the  praise  as  a  greedy  boy  takes  apple-pie,  and  the  criti- 
cism as  a  good,  dutiful  boy  takes  senna-tea.  He  has  one  emi- 
nent merit,  that  of  being  a  most  enthusiastic  admirer  of  mine ; 
so  that  I  may  be  the  hero  of  a  novel  yet,  under  the  name  of 
Delamere  or  Mortimer.  Only  think  what  an  honor ! 

Bulwer  is  to  be  editor  of  the  New  Monthly  Magazine.  He 
begged  me  very  earnestly  to  give  him  something  for  it.  I 
would  make  no  promises ;  for  I  am  already  over  head  and  ears 
in  literary  engagements.  But  I  may  possibly  now  and  then 
send  him  some  trifle  or  other.  At  all  events,  I  shall  expect 
him  to  puff  me  well.  I  do  not  see  why  I  should  not  have  my 
puffers  as  well  as  my  neighbors. 

I  am  glad  that  you  have  read  Madame  de  StaeTs  "Alle- 
magne."  The  book  is  a  foolish  one  in  some  respects ;  but  it 
abounds  with  information,  and  shows  great  mental  power. 
She  was  certainly  the  first  woman  of  her  age;  Miss  Edge- 
worth,  I  think,  the  second  ;  and  Miss  Austen  the  third. 

Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

*  "  By-the-bye,"  Macaulay  writes  elsewhere,  "  you  never  saw  such  a 
scene  as  Croker's  oration  on  Friday  night.  He  abused  Lord  John  Russell, 
he  abused  Lord  Althorp,  he  abused  the  lord  advocate,  and  we  took  no  no- 
tice—  never  once  groaned  or  cried  'No!'  But  he  began  to  praise  Lord 
Fitzwilliam — 'a  venerable  nobleman,  an  excellent  and  amiable  nobleman,' 
aud  so  forth ;  and  we  all  broke  out  together  with  '  Question  !'  '  No,  no !' 
'This  is  too  bad !'  '  Don't, don't!'  He  then  called  Canning  his  right  hon- 
orable friend.  '  Your  friend !  d — n  your  impudent  face !'  said  the  member 
who  sat  next  me." 


1830-'32.]  LOKD  MACAULAY.  219 

To  Hannah  M.  Macaulay. 

London,  August  29th,  1831. 

MY  DEAE  SISTER, — Here  I  am  again  settled,  sitting  up  in 
the  House  of  Commons  till  three  o'clock  five  days  in  the 
week,  and  getting  an  indigestion  at  great  dinners  the  remain- 
ing two.  I  dined  on  Saturday  with  Lord  Althorp,  and  yes- 
terday with  Sir  James  Graham.  Both  of  them  gave  me  ex- 
actly the  same  dinner;  and  though  I  am  not  generally  copi- 
ous on  the  repasts  which  my  hosts  provide  for  me,  I  must 
tell  you,  for  the  honor  of  official  hospitality,  how  our  minis- 
ters regale  their  supporters.  Turtle,  turbot,  venison,  and 
grouse  formed  part  of  both  entertainments. 

Lord  Althorp  was  extremely  pleasant  at  the  head  of  his  own 
table.  We  were  a  small  party — Lord  Ebrington,  Hawkins, 
Captain  Spencer,  Stanley,  and  two  or  three  more.  We  all  of 
us  congratulated  Lord  Althorp  on  his  good  health  and  spirits. 
He  told  us  that  he  never  took  exercise  now ;  that  from  his 
getting  up,  till  four  o'clock,  he  was  engaged  in  the  business  of 
his  office ;  that  at  four  h,e  dined,  went  down  to  the  House  at 
five,  and  never  stirred  till  the  House  rose,  which  is  always  aft- 
er midnight ;  that  he  then  went  home,  took  a  basin  of  arrow- 
root with  a  glass  of  sherry  in  it,  and  went  to  bed,  where  he  al- 
ways dropped  asleep  in  three  minutes.  "  During  the  week," 
said  he,  "  which  followed  my  taking  office  I  did  not  close  my 
eyes  for  anxiety.  Since  that  time  I  have  never  been  awake 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  after  taking  off  my  clothes."  Stanley 
laughed  at  Lord  Althorp's  arrowroot,  and  recommended  his 
own  supper — cold  meat  and  warm  negus ;  a  supper  which  I 
will  certainly  begin  to  take  when  I  feel  a  desire  to  pass  the 
night  with  a  sensation  as  if  I  were  swallowing  a  nutmeg-grater 
every  third  minute. 

We  talked  about  timidity  in  speaking.  Lord  Althorp  said 
that  he  had  only  just  got  over  his  apprehensions.  "  I  was  as 
much  afraid,"  he  said,  "  last  year  as  when  first  I  came  into 
Parliament.  But  now  I  am  forced  to  speak  so  often  that  I 
am  quite  hardened.  Last  Thursday  I  was  up  forty  times."  I 
was  not  much  surprised  at  this  in  Lord  Althorp,  as  he  is  cer- 


220  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  iv. 

tainly  one  of  the  most  modest  men  in  existence.  But  I  was 
surprised  to  hear  Stanley  say  that  he  never  rose  without  great 
uneasiness.  "  My  throat  and  lips,"  he  said,  "  when  I  am  go- 
ing to  speak,  are  as  dry  as  those  of  a  man  who  is  going  to  be 
hanged."  Nothing  can  be  more  composed  and  cool  than  Stan- 
ley's manner.  His  fault  is  on  that  side.  A  little  hesitation 
at  the  beginning  of  a  speech  is  graceful,  and  many  eminent 
speakers  have  practiced  it  merely  in  order  to  give  the  appear- 
ance of  unpremeditated  reply  to  prepared  speeches.  Stanley 
speaks  like  a  man  who  never  knew  what  fear,  or  even  mod- 
esty, was.  Tierney,  it  is  remarkable,  who  was  the  most  ready 
,and  fluent  debater  almost  ever  known,  made  a  confession  sim- 
ilar to  Stanley's.  He  never  spoke,  he  said,  without  feeling 
his  knees  knock  together  when  he  rose. 

My  opinion  of  Lord  Althorp  is  extremely  high.  In  fact, 
his  character  is  the  only  stay  of  the  ministry.  I  doubt  wheth- 
er any  person  has  ever  lived  in  England  who,  with  no  elo- 
quence, no  brilliant  talents,  no  profound  information,  with 
nothing,  in  short,  but  plain  good  sense  and  an  excellent  heart, 
possessed  so  much  influence  both  in  and  out  of  Parliament. 
His  temper  is  an  absolute  miracle.  He  has  been  worse  used 
than  any  minister  ever  was  in  debate,  and  he  has  never  said 
one  thing  inconsistent,  I  do  not  say  with  gentleman-like  court- 
esy, but  with  real  benevolence.  Lord  North,  perhaps,  was  his 
equal  in  suavity  and  good  nature ;  but  Lord  North  was  not  a 
man  of  strict  principles.  His  administration  was  not  only  an 
administration  hostile  to  liberty,  but  it  was  supported  by  vile 
and  corrupt  means — by  direct  bribery,  I  fear,  in  many  cases. 
Lord  Althorp  has  the  temper  of  Lord  North  with  the  princi- 
ples of  Romilly.  If  he  had  the  oratorical  powers  of  either  of 
those  men,  he  might  do  any  thing.  But  his  understanding, 
though  just,  is  slow,  and  his  elocution  painfully  defective.  It 
is,  however,  only  justice  to  him  to  say  that  he  has  done  more 
service  to  the  Eef orm  Bill  even  as  a  debater  than  all  the  other 
ministers  together,  Stanley  excepted. 

We  are  going — by  we  I  mean  the  members  of  Parliament 
who  are  for  reform — as  soon  as  the  bill  is  through  the  Com- 
mons, to  give  a  grand  dinner  to  Lord  Althorp  and  Lord  John 


1830-'32.]  LOED  MACAULAY.  221 

Russell,  as  a  mark  of  our  respect.  Some  people  wished  to 
have  the  other  cabinet  ministers  included;  but  Grant  and 
Palmerston  are  not  in  sufficiently  high  esteem  among  the 
"Whigs  to  be  honored  with  such  a  compliment. 

Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

To  Hannah  M.  Macaulay. 

London,  September  9th,  1831. 

MY  DEAK  SISTER, — I  scarcely  know  where  to  begin,  or  where 
to  end,  my  story  of  the  magnificence  of  yesterday.  'No  pag- 
eant can  be  conceived  more  splendid.  The  newspapers  will 
happily  save  me  the  trouble  of  relating  minute  particulars.  I 
will  therefore  give  you  an  account  of  my  own  proceedings, 
and  mention  what  struck  me  most.  I  rose  at  six.  The  can- 
non awaked  me ;  and,  as  soon  as  I  got  up,  I  heard  the  bells 
pealing  on  every  side  from  all  the  steeples  in  London.  I  put 
on  my  court-dress,  and  looked  a  perfect  Lovelace  in  it.  At 
seven  the  glass  coach  which  I  had  ordered  for  myself  and  some 
of  my  friends  came  to  the  door.  I  called  in  Hill  Street  for 
William  Marshall,  M.  P.  for  Beverley,  and  in  Cork  Street 
for  Strutt,  the  member  for  Derby,  and  Hawkins,  the  member 
for  Tavistock.  Our  party  being  complete,  we  drove  through 
crowds  of  people  and  ranks  of  horse-guards  in  cuirasses  and 
helmets  to  Westminster  Hall,  which  we  reached  as  the  clock 
struck  eight. 

The  House  of  Commons  was  crowded,  and  the  whole  assem- 
bly was  in  uniform.  After  prayers  we  went  out  in  order  by 
lot,  the  Speaker  going  last.  My  county,  Wiltshire,  was  among 
the  first  drawn ;  so  I  got  an  excellent  place  in  the  Abbey,  next 
to  Lord  Mahon,  who  is  a  very  great  favorite  of  mine,  and  a 
very  amusing  companion,  though  a  bitter  Tory. 

Our  gallery  was  immediately  over  the  great  altar.  The 
whole  vast  avenue  of  lofty  pillars  was  directly  in  front  of  as. 
At  eleven  the  guns  fired,  the  organ  struck  up,  and  the  proces- 
sion entered.  I  never  saw  so  magnificent  a  scene.  All  down 
that  immense  vista  of  gloomy  arches  there  was  one  blaze  of  scar- 
let and  gold.  First  came  heralds  in  coats  stiff  with  embroider- 
ed lions,  unicorns,  and  harps ;  then  nobles  bearing  the  regalia, 


222  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  iv. 

with  pages  in  rich  dresses  carrying  their  coronets  on  cushions ; 
then  the  dean  and  prebendaries  of  Westminster  in  copes  of 
cloth  of  gold ;  then  a  crowd  of  beautiful  girls  and  women,  or 
at  least  of  girls  and  women  who  at  a  distance  looked  alto- 
gether beautiful,  attending  on  the  queen.  Her  train  of  pur- 
ple velvet  and  ermine  was  borne  by  six  of  these  fair  creatures. 
All  the  great  officers  of  state  in  full  robes,  the  Duke  of  Wel- 
lington with  his  marshal's  staff,  the  Duke  of  Devonshire  with 
his  white  rod,  Lord  Grey  with  the  sword  of  state,  and  the 
chancellor  with  his  seals,  came  in  procession.  Then  all  the 
royal  dukes  with  their  trains  borne  behind  them,  and  last  the 
king  leaning  on  two  bishops.  I  do  not,  I  dare  say,  give  you 
the  precise  order.  In  fact,  it  was  impossible  to  discern  any 
order.  The  whole  abbey  was  one  blaze  of  gorgeous  dresses, 
mingled  with  lovely  faces. 

The  queen  behaved  admirably,  with  wonderful  grace  and 
dignity.  The  king  very  awkwardly.  The  Duke  of  Devon- 
shire looked  as  if  he  came  to  be  crowned  instead  of  his  master. 
I  never  saw  so  princely  a  manner  and  air.  The  chancellor 
looked  like  Mephistopheles  behind  Margaret  in  the  church. 
The  ceremony  was  much  too  long,  and  some  parts  of  it  were 
carelessly  performed.  The  archbishop  mumbled.  The  Bishop 
of  London  preached,  well  enough  indeed,  but  not  so  effective- 
ly as  the  occasion  required ;  and,  above  all,  the  bearing  of  the 
king  made  the  foolish  parts  of  the  ritual  appear  monstrously 
ridiculous,  and  deprived  many  of  the  better  parts  of  their 
proper  effect.  Persons  who  were  at  a  distance,  perhaps,  did 
not  feel  this ;  but  I  was  near  enough  to  see  every  turn  of  his 
finger  and  every  glance  of  his  eye.  The  moment  of  the 
crowning  was  extremely  fine.  When  the  archbishop  placed 
the  crown  on  the  head  of  the  king,  the  trumpets  sounded,  and 
the  whole  audience  cried  out, "  God  save  the  King."  All  the 
peers  and  peeresses  put  on  their  coronets,  and  the  blaze  of 
splendor  through  the  Abbey  seemed  to  be  doubled.  The  king 
was  then  conducted  to  the  raised  throne,  where  the  peers  suc- 
cessively did  him  homage,  each  of  them  kissing  his  cheek  and 
touching  the  crown.  Some  of  them  were  cheered,  which  I 
thought  indecorous  in  such  a  place  and  on  such  an  occasion. 


1830-'32.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  223 

The  Tories  cheered  the  Duke  of  Wellington ;  and  our  people, 
in  revenge,  cheered  Lord  Grey  and  Brougham. 

You  will  think  this  a  very  dull  letter  for  so  great  a  subject ; 
but  I  have  only  had  time  to  scrawl  these  lines  in  order  to 
catch  the  post.  I  have  not  a  minute  to  read  them  over.  I 
lost  yesterday,  and  have  been  forced  to  work  to-day.  Half 
my  article  on  Boswell  went  to  Edinburgh  the  day  before  yes- 
terday. I  have,  though  I  say  it  who  should  not  say  it,  beaten 
Croker  black  and  blue.  Impudent  as  he  is,  I  think  he  must 
be  ashamed  of  the  pickle  in  which  I  leave  him. 

Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

To  Hannah  M.  Macaula/y. 

London,  September  13th,  1831. 

MY  DEAR  SISTER, — I  am  in  high  spirits  at  the  thought  of 
soon  seeing  you  all  in  London,  and  being  again  one  of  a  fam- 
ily, and  of  a  family  which  I  love  so  much.  It  is  well  that  one 
has  something  to  love  in  private  life  ;  for  the  aspect  of  public 
affairs  is  very  menacing — fearful,  I  think,  beyond  what  people 
in  general  imagine.  Three  weeks,  however,  will  probably  set- 
tle the  whole,  and  bring  to  an  issue  the  question,  Reform  or 
Revolution.  One  or  the  other  I  am  certain  that  we  must  and 
shall  have.  I  assure  you  that  the  violence  of  the  people,  the 
bigotry  of  the  lords,  and  the  stupidity  and  weakness  of  the 
ministers,  alarm  me  so  much  that  even  my  rest  is  disturbed 
by  vexation  and  uneasy  forebodings;  not  for  myself,  for  I 
may  gain  and  can  not  lose  ;  but  for  this  noble  country,  which 
seems  likely  to  be  ruined  without  the  miserable  consolation  of 
being  ruined  by  great  men.  All  seems  fair  as  yet,  and  will 
seem  fair  for  a  fortnight  longer.  But  I  know  the  danger 
from  information  more  accurate  and  certain  than,  I  believe, 
any  body  not  in  power  possesses ;  and  I  perceive,  what  our 
men  in  power  do  not  perceive,  how  terrible  the  danger  is. 

I  called  on  Lord  Lansdowne  on  Sunday.  He  told  me  dis- 
tinctly that  he  expected  the  bill  to  be  lost  in  the  Lords,  and 
that,  if  it  were  lost,  the  ministers  must  go  out.  I  told  him, 
with  as  much  strength  of  expression  as  was  suited  to  the  nat- 
ure of  our  connection  and  to  his  age  and  rank,  that  if  the  min- 


LIFE  AND  LETTEKS  OF  [CHAP.IV. 

isters  receded  before  the  Lords,  and  hesitated  to  make  peers, 
they  and  the  Whig  party  were  lost ;  that  nothing  remained 
but  an  insolent  oligarchy  on  the  one  side,  and  an  infuriated 
people  on  the  other ;  and  that  Lord  Grey  and  his  colleagues 
would  become  as  odious  and  more  contemptible  than  Peel  and 
the  Duke  of  Wellington.  Why  did  they  not  think  of  all  this 
earlier  ?  Why  put  their  hand  to  the  plow  and  look  back  ? 
Why  begin  to  build  without  counting  the  cost  of  finishing? 
Why  raise  the  public  appetite,  and  then  balk  it  ?  I  told  him 
that  the  House  of  Commons  would  address  the  king  against  a 
Tory  ministry.  I  feel  assured  that  it  would  do  so.  I  feel  as- 
sured that,  if  those  who  are  bidden  will  not  come,  the  high- 
ways and  hedges  will  be  ransacked  to  get  together  a  reform- 
ing cabinet.  To  one  thing  my  mind  is  made  up.  If  nobody 
else  will  move  an  address  to  the  crown  against  a  Toiy  minis- 
try, I  will.  Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

London,  October  17th,  1831. 

MY  DEAH  ELLIS, — I  should  have  written  to  you  before,  but 
that  I  mislaid  your  letter  and  forgot  your  direction.  When 
shall  you  be  in  London  ?  Of  course  you  do  not  mean  to  sac- 
rifice your  professional  business  to  the  work  of  numbering 
the  gates  and  telling  the  towers  of  boroughs*  in  Wales.  You 
will  come  back,  I  suppose,  with  your  head  full  of  ten-pound 
householders  instead  of  $/OU>EC,  and  of  Caermarthen  and  Den- 
bigh instead  of  Carians  and  Pelasgians.  Is  it  true,  by-the-bye, 
that  the  commissioners  are  whipped  on  the  boundaries  of  the 
boroughs  by  the  beadles,  in  order  that  they  may  not  forget 
the  precise  line  which  they  have  drawn  ?  I  deny  it  wherever 
I  go,  and  assure  people  that  some  of  my  friends  who  are  in 
the  commission  would  not  submit  to  such  degradation. 

You  must  have  been  hard -worked  indeed,  and  soundly 
whipped  too,  if  you  have  suffered  as  much  for  the  Eeform 
Bill  as  we  who  debated  it.  I  believe  that  there  are  fifty  mem- 
bers of  the  House  of  Commons  who  have  done  irreparable  in- 

*  Mr.  Ellis  was  one  of  the  commissioners  appointed  to  arrange  the 
boundaries  of  parliamentary  boroughs  in  connection  with  the  Eeform  Bill. 


1830-'32.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  225 

jury  to  their  health  by  attendance  on  the  discussions  of  this 
session.  I  have  got  through  pretty  well,  but  I  look  forward, 
I  confess,  with  great  dismay  to  the  thought  of  recommencing ; 
particularly  as  Wetherell's  cursed  lungs  seem  to  be  in  as  good 
condition  as  ever. 

I  have  every  reason  to  be  gratified  by  the  manner  in  which 
my  speeches  have  been  received.  To  say  the  truth,  the  sta- 
tion which  I  now  hold  in  the  House  is  such  that  I  should  not 
be  inclined  to  quit  it  for  any  place  which  was  not  of  consid- 
erable importance.  What  you  saw  about  my  having  a  place 
was  a  blunder  of  a  stupid  reporter's.  Croker  was  taunting 
the  Government  with  leaving  me  to  fight  their  battle  and  to 
rally  their  followers ;  and  said  that  the  honorable  and  learned 
member  for  Calne,  though  only  a  practicing  barrister  in  title, 
seemed  to  be  in  reality  the  most  efficient  member  of  the  Gov- 
ernment. By -the -bye,  my  article  on  Croker  has  not  only 
smashed  his  book,  but  has  hit  the  Westminster  Review  inci- 
dentally. The  Utilitarians  took  on  themselves  to  praise  the 
accuracy  of  the  most  inaccurate  writer  that  ever  lived,  and 
gave  as  an  instance  of  it  a  note  in  which,  as  I  have  shown,  he 
makes  a  mistake  of  twenty  years  and  more.  John  Mill  is  in 
a  rage,  and  says  that  they  are  in  a  worse  scrape  than  Croker ; 
John  Murray  says  that  it  is  a  d — d  nuisance;  and  Croker 
looks  across  the  House  of  Commons  at  me  with  a  leer  of  ha- 
tred which  I  repay  with  a  gracious  smile  of  pity. 

I  am  ashamed  to  have  said  so  much  about  myself.  But 
you  asked  for  news  about  me.  No  request  is  so  certain  to  be 
granted,  or  so  certain  to  be  a  curse  to  him  who  makes  it,  as 
that  which  you  have  made  to  me.  Ever  yours, 

T.  B.  MACAULAY. 

London,  January  9th,  1832. 

DEAR  NAPIER, — I  have  been  so  much  engaged  by  bankrupt 
business,  as  we  are  winding  up  the  affairs  of  many  estates, 
that  I  shall  not  be  able  to  send  off  my  article  about  Hamp- 
den  till  Thursday,  the  12th.  It  will  be,  I  fear,  more  than 
forty  pages  long.  As  Pascal  said  of  his  eighteenth  letter,  I 
would  have  made  it  shorter  if  I  could  have  kept  it  longer. 

YOL.  I.— 15 


226  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.IV. 

You  must  indulge  me,  however,  for  I  seldom  offend  in  that 
way. 

It  is  in  part  a  narrative.     This  is  a  sort  of  composition 
which  I  have  never  yet  attempted.     You  will  tell  me,  I  am 
sure  with  sincerity,  how  you  think  .that  I  succeed  in  it.     I  have 
said  as  little  about  Lord  Nugent's  book  as  I  decently  could. 
Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

London,  January  19th,  1832. 

DEAR  NAPIEK, — I  will  try  the  "  Life  of  Lord  Burleigh,"  if 
you  will  tell  Longman  to  send  me  the  book.  However  bad 
the  work  may  be,  it  will  serve  as  a  heading  for  an  article  on 
the  times  of  Elizabeth.  On  the  whole,  I  thought  it  best  not 
to  answer  Croker.  Almost  all  the  little  pamphlet  which  he 
published  (or  rather  printed,  for  I  believe  it  is  not  for  sale),  is 
made  up  of  extracts  from  Blackwood:  and  I  thought  that  a 
contest  with  your  grog-drinking,  cock-fighting,  cudgel-play- 
ing professor  of  moral  philosophy  would  be  too  degrading.  I 
could  have  demolished  every  paragraph  of  the  defense.  Cro- 
ker defended  his  Ovrtrol  QiXoi*  by  quoting  a  passage  of  Eurip- 
ides which,  as  every  scholar  knows,  is  corrupt ;  which  is  non- 
sense and  false  metre  if  read  as  he  reads  it ;  and  which  Mark- 
land  and  Matthise  have  set  right  by  a  most  obvious  correction. 
But,  as  nobody  seems  to  have  read  his  vindication,  we  can  gain 
nothing  by  refuting  it.  Ever  yours,  T.  B.  MACAULAY. 

*  "Mr.  Croker  has  favored  us  with  some  Greek  of  his  own.  'At  the  al- 
tar,' says  Dr.  Johnson, '  I  recommended  my  9  $.'  '  These  letters,'  says  the 
editor  (which  Dr.  Strahan  seems  not  to  have  understood),  'probably  mean 
6vT)Toi  <j>i\ot,  departed  friend*.'  Johnson  was  not  a  first-rate  Greek  scholar  ; 
but  he  knew  more  Greek  than  most  boys  when  they  leave  school ;  and  no 
school-boy  could  venture  to  use  the  word  OVTJTOI  in  the  sense  which  Mr. 
Croker  ascribes  to  it  without  imminent  danger  of  a  flogging." — Macaulay's 
Review  of  Croker't  Boswell. 


1832-'34.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  227 


CHAPTEE  V. 

1832-1834. 

Macaulay  is  Invited  to  stand  for  Leeds. — The  Reform  Bill  passes. — Mac- 
aulay  appointed  Commissioner  of  the  Board  of  Control. — His  Life  in  Of- 
fice.— Letters  to  his  Sister. — Contested  Election  at  Leeds. — Macaulay's 
Bearing  as  a  Candidate. — Canvassing. — Pledges. — Intrusion  of  Religion 
into  Politics. — Placemen  in  Parliament. — Liverpool. —  Margaret  Mac- 
aulay's Marriage.  —  How  it  Affected  her  Brother. — He  is  Returned  for 
Leeds. — Becomes  Secretary  of  the  Board  of  Control. — Letters  to  Lady 
Trevelyan. — Session  of  1832. — Macaulay's  Speech  on  the  India  Bill. — His 
Regard  for  Lord  Glenelg. — Letters  to  Lady  Trevelyan. — The  West  In- 
dian Question. — Macaulay  resigns  Office. — He  gains  his  Point,  and  re- 
sumes his  Place. — Emancipation  of  the  Slaves. — Death  of  Wilberforce. — 
Letters  to  Lady  Trevelyan. — Macaulay  is  appointed  Member  of  the  Su- 
preme Council  of  India. — Letters  to  Lady  Trevelyan,  Lord  Lansdowne, 
and  Mr.  Napier. — Altercation  between  Lord  Althorp  and  Mr.  Sheil. — 
Macanlay's  Appearance  before  the  Committee  of  Investigation. — He  sails 
for  India. 

DTJKING  the  earlier  half  of  the  year  1832  the  vessel  of 
Reform  was  still  laboring  heavily;  but  long  before  she  was 
through  the  breakers,  men  had  begun  to  discount  the  treas- 
ures which  she  was  bringing  into  port.  The  time  was  fast 
approaching  when  the  country  would  be  called  upon  to  choose 
its  first  Reformed  Parliament.  As  if  the  spectacle  of  what 
was  doing  at  Westminster  did  not  satisfy  their  appetite  for 
political  excitement,  the  constituencies  of  the  future  could  not 
refrain  from  anticipating  the  fancied  pleasures  of  an  electoral 
struggle.  Impatient  to  exercise  their  privileges,  and  to  show 
that  they  had  as  good  an  eye  for  a  man  as  those  patrons  of 
nomination  seats  whose  discernment  was  being  vaunted  night- 
ly in  a  dozen  speeches  from  the  opposition  benches  of  the 
House  of  Commons,  the  great  cities  were  vying  with  each 
other  to  seek  representatives  worthy  of  the  occasion  and  of 
themselves.  The  Whigs  of  Leeds,  already  provided  with  one 


228  Li™  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  v. 

candidate  in  a  member  of  the  great  local  firm  of  the  Mar- 
shalls,  resolved  to  seek  for  another  among  the  distinguished 
politicians  of  their  party.  As  early  as  October,  1831,  Macau- 
lay  had  received  a  requisition  from  that  town,  and  had  pledged 
himself  to  stand  as  soon  as  it  had  been  elevated  into  a  parlia- 
mentary borough.  The  Tories,  on  their  side,  brought  forward 
Mr.  Michael  Sadler,  the  very  man  on  whose  behalf  the  Duke 
of  Newcastle  had  done  "what  he  liked  with  his  own"  in 
Newark,  and,  at  the  last  general  election,  had  done  it  in  vain. 
Sadler,  smarting  from  the  lash  of  the  Edinburgh  jKeview,  in- 
fused into  the  contest  an  amount  of  personal  bitterness  that, 
for  his  own  sake,  might  better  have  been  spared ;  and,  during 
more  than  a  twelvemonth  to  come,  Macaulay  lived  the  life  of 
a  candidate  whose  own  hands  are  full  of  public  work  at  a  time 
when  his  opponent  has  nothing  to  do  except  to  make  himself 
disagreeable.  But,  having  once  undertaken  to  fight  the  bat- 
tle of  the  Leeds  Liberals,  he  fought  it  stoutly  and  cheerily, 
and  would  have  been  the  last  to  claim  it  as  a  merit,  that,  with 
numerous  opportunities  of  a  safe  and  easy  election  at  his  dis- 
posal, he  remained  faithful  to  the  supporters  who  had  been  so 
forward  to  honor  him  with  their  choice. 

The  old  system  died  hard ;  but  in  May,  1832,  came  its  final 
agony.  The  Reform  Bill  had  passed  the  Commons,  and  had 
been  read  a  second  time  in  the  Upper  House ;  but  the  facili- 
ties which  committee  affords  for  maiming  and  delaying  a 
measure  of  great  magnitude  and  intricacy  proved  too  much 
for  the  self-control  of  the  Lords.  The  king  could  not  bring 
himself  to  adopt  that  wonderful  expedient  by  which  the  una- 
nimity of  the  three  branches  of  our  legislature  may,  in  the 
last  resort,  be  secured.  Deceived  by  an  utterly  fallacious 
analogy,  his  majesty  began  to  be  persuaded  that  the  path  of 
concession  would  lead  him  whither  it  had  led  Louis  the  Six- 
teenth, and  he  resolved  to  halt  on  that  path  at  the  point 
where  his  ministers  advised  him  to  force  the  hands  of  their 
lordships  by  creating  peers.  The  supposed  warnings  of  the 
French  Revolution,  which  had  been  dinned  into  the  ears  of 
the  country  by  every  Tory  orator  from  Peel  to  Sibthorpe,  at 
last  had  produced  their  effect  on  the  royal  imagination.  Earl 


1833-'34.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  229 

Grey  resigned,  and  the  -Duke  of  Wellington,  with  a  loyalty 
which  certainly  did  riot  stand  in  need  of  such  an  unlucky 
proof,  came  forward  to  meet  the  storm.  But  its  violence  was 
too  much  even  for  his  courage  and  constancy.  He  could  not 
get  colleagues  to  assist  him  in  the  Cabinet,  or  supporters  to 
vote  with  him  in  Parliament,  or  soldiers  to  fight  for  him  in 
the  streets ;  and  it  was  evident  that  in  a  few  days  his  position 
would  be  such  as  could  only  be  kept  by  fighting. 

The  revolution  had,  in  truth,  commenced.  At  a  meeting  of 
the  political  unions  on  the  slope  of  Newhall  Hill  at  Birming- 
ham, a  hundred  thousand  voices  had  sung  the  words : 

God  is  our  guide.    No  swords  we  draw. 

We  kindle  not  war's  battle  fires. 
By  union,  justice,  reason,  law, 

We  claim  the  birthright  of  our  sires. 

But  those  very  men  were  now  binding  themselves  by  a  dec- 
laration that,  unless  the  bill  passed,  they  would  pay  no  taxes, 
nor  purchase  property  distrained  by  the  tax-gatherer.  In  thus 
renouncing  the  first  obligation  of  a  citizen,  they  did  in  effect 
draw  the  sword,  and  they  would  have  been  cravens  if  they 
had  left  it  in  the  scabbard.  Lord  Milton  did  something  to 
enhance  the  claim  of  his  historic  house  upon  the  national 
gratitude  by  giving  practical  effect  to  this  audacious  resolve ; 
and,  after  the  lapse  of  two  centuries,  another  Great  Rebellion, 
more  effectual  than  its  predecessor,  but  so  brief  and  bloodless 
that  history  does  not  recognize  it  as  a  rebellion  at  all,  was  in- 
augurated by  the  essentially  English  proceeding  of  a  quiet 
country  gentleman  telling  the  collector  to  call  again.  The 
crisis  lasted  just  a  week.  The  duke  had  no  mind  for  a  suc- 
cession of  Peterloos,  on  a  vaster  scale,  and  with  a  different 
issue.  He  advised  the  king  to  recall  his  ministers;  and  his 
majesty,  in  his  turn,  honored  the  refractory  lords  with  a  most 
significant  circular  letter,  respectful  in  form,  but  unmistakable 
in  tenor.  A  hundred  peers  of  the  opposition  took  the  hint, 
and  contrived  to  be  absent  whenever  Reform  was  before  the 
House.  The  bill  was  read  for  a  third  time  by  a  majority  of 
five  to  one  on  the  4th  of  June ;  a  strange,  and  not  very  com- 


230  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  v. 

plimentary,  method  of  celebrating  old  George  the  Third's 
birthday.  On  the  5th  it  received  the  last  touches  in  the  Com- 
mons ;  and  on  the  7th  it  became  an  act,  in  very  much  the 
same  shape,  after  such  and  so  many  vicissitudes,  as  it  wore 
when  Lord  John  Russell  first  presented  it  to  Parliament. 

Macaulay,  whose  eloquence  had  signalized  every  stage  of  the 
conflict,  and  whose*  printed  speeches  are,  of  all  its  authentic 
records,  the  most  familiar  to  readers  of  our  own  day,  was  not 
left  without  his  reward.  He  was  appointed  one  of  the  com- 
missioners of  the  Board  of  Control,  which,  for  three  quarters 
of  a  century,  from  1784  onward,  represented  the  crown  in  its 
relations  to  the  East  Indian  directors.  His  duties,  like  those 
of  every  individual  member  of  a  commission,  were  light  or 
heavy  as  he  chose  to  make  them ;  but  his  own  feeling  with  re- 
gard to  those  duties  must  not  be  deduced  from  the  playful  al- 
lusions contained  in  letters  dashed  off  during  the  momentary 
leisure  of  an  overbusy  day  for  the  amusement  of  two  girls 
who  barely  numbered  forty  years  between  them.  His  speeches 
and  essays  teem  with  expressions  of  a  far  deeper  than  offi- 
cial interest  in  India  and  her  people  ;  and  his  minutes  remain 
on  record  to  prove  that  he  did  not  affect  the  sentiment  for  a 
literary  or  oratorical  purpose.  The  attitude  of  his  own  mind 
with  regard  to  our  Eastern  empire  is  depicted  in  the  passage 
on  Burke,  in  the  essay  on  Warren  Hastings,  which  commences 
with  the  words  "  His  knowledge  of  India,"  and  concludes  with 
the  sentence  "  Oppression  in  Bengal  was  to  him  the  same 
thing  as  oppression  in  the  streets  of  London."  That  passage, 
unsurpassed  as  it  is  in  force  of  language  and  splendid  fidelity 
of  detail  by  any  thing  that  Macaulay  ever  wrote  or  uttered, 
was  inspired,  as  all  who  knew  him  could  testify,  by  sincere  and 
entire  sympathy  with  that  great  statesman  of  whose  humanity 
and  breadth  of  view  it  is  the  merited,  and  not  inadequate, 
panegyric. 

In  Margaret  Macaulay's  journal  there  occurs  more  than  one 
mention  of  her  brother's  occasional  fits  of  contrition  on  the 
subject  of  his  own  idleness ;  but  these  regrets  and  confessions 
must  be  taken  for  what  they  are  worth,  and  for  no  more.  He 
worked  much  harder  than  he  gave  himself  credit  for.  His 


1832-'34.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  231 

nature  was  such  that  whatever  he  did  was  done  with  all  his 
heart  and  all  his  power,  and  he  was  constitutionally  incapable 
of  doing  it  otherwise.  He  always  underestimated  the  tension 
and  concentration  of  mind  which  he  brought  to  bear  upon  his 
labors,  as  compared  with  that  which  men  in  general  bestow  on 
whatever  business  they  may  have  in  hand;  and  toward  the 
close  of  life  this  honorable  self-deception  no  doubt  led  him  to 
draw  far  too  largely  upon  his  failing  strength,  under  the  im- 
pression that  there  was  nothing  unduly  severe  in  the  efforts  to 
which  he  continued  to  brace  himself  with  ever-increasing  dif- 
ficulty. 

During  the  eighteen  months  that  he  passed  at  the  Board  of 
Control  he  had  no  time  for  relaxation,  and  very  little  for  the 
industry  which  he  loved  the  best.  Giving  his  days  to  India, 
and  his  nights  to  the  inexorable  demands  of  the  Treasury 
whip,  he  could  devote  a  few  hours  to  the  Edinburgh  Review 
only  by  rising  at  five  when  the  rules  of  the  House  of  Com- 
mons had  allowed  him  to  get  to  bed  betimes  on  the  previous 
evening.  Yet,  under  these  conditions,  he  contrived  to  provide 
Mr.  Napier  with  the  highly  finished  articles  on  Horace  Wai- 
pole  and  Lord  Chatham,  and  to  gratify  a  political  opponent 
who  was  destined  to  be  a  life-long  friend  by  his  kindly  criti- 
cism and  spirited  summary  of  Lord  Mahon's  "  History  of  the 
"War  of  the  Succession  in  Spain."  And, in  the  "Friendship's 
Offering"  of  1833,  one  of  those  mawkish  annual  publications 
of  the  album  species  which  were  then  in  fashion,  appeared  his 
poem  of  "  The  Armada ;"  whose  swinging  couplets  read  as  if 
somewhat  out  of  place  in  the  company  of  such  productions  as 
"  The  Mysterious  Stranger ;  or,  The  Bravo  of  Banff ;"  "Away 
to  the  Greenwood,  a  Song ;"  and, "  Lines  on  a  Window  that 
had  been  Frozen,"  beginning  with, 

Pellncid  pane,  this  morn  on  thee 

My  fancy  shaped  both  tower  and  tree. 

To  Hannah  and  Margaret  Macaulay. 

Bath,  June  10th,  1832. 

MY  DEAR  SISTERS, — Every  thing  has  gone  wrong  with  me. 
The  people  at  Calne  fixed  Wednesday  for  my  re-election  on 


232  LIFE  AXD  LETTERS  OP  [CHAP.  v. 

taking  office ;  the  very  day  on  which  I  was  to  have  been  at 
a  public  dinner  at  Leeds.  I  shall  therefore  remain  here  till 
Wednesday  morning,  and  read  Indian  politics  in  quiet.  I  am 
already  deep  in  Zemindars,  Ryots,  Polygars,  Courts  of  Phouj- 
dary,  and  Courts  of  Nizamut  Adawlut.  I  can  tell  you  which 
of  the  native  powers  are  subsidiary  and  which  independent, 
and  read  you  lectures  of  an  hour  on  our  diplomatic  transac- 
tions at  the  courts  of  Lucknow,  Nagpore,  Hydrabad,  and 
Poonah.  At  Poonah,  indeed,  I  need  not  tell  you  that  there  is 
no  court ;  for  the  Paishwa,  as  you  are  doubtless  aware,  was  de- 
posed by  Lord  Hastings  in  the  Pindarree  war.  Am  I  not  in 
fair  training  to  be  as  great  a  bore  as  if  I  had  myself  been  in 
India — that  is  to  say,  as  great  a  bore  as  the  greatest  ? 

I  am  leading  my  watering-place  life  here ;  reading,  writing, 
and  walking  all  day ;  speaking  to  nobody  but  the  waiter  and 
the  chamber-maid ;  solitary  in  a  great  crowd,  and  content  with 
solitude.  I  shall  be  in  London  again  on  Thursday,  and  shall 
also  be  an  M.P.  From  that  day  you  may  send  your  letters  as 
freely  as  ever ;  and  pray  do  not  be  sparing  of  them.  Do  you 
read  any  novels  at  Liverpool?  I  should  fear  that  the  good 
Quakers  would  twitch  them  out  of  your  hands,  and  appoint 
their  portion  in  the  fire.  Yet  probably  you  have  some  safe 
place,  some  box,  some  drawer  with  a  key,  wherein  a  marble- 
covered  book  may  lie  for  Nancy's  Sunday  reading.  And,  if 
you  do  not  read  novels,  what  do  you  read !  How  does  Schil- 
ler go  on  ?  I  have  sadly  neglected  Calderon ;  but  whenever 
I  have  a  month  to  spare,  I  shall  carry  my  conquests  far  and 
deep  into  Spanish  literature.  Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

To  Hannah  and  Margaret  Macaulay. 

London,  July  2d,  1832. 

MY  DEAR  SISTERS, — I  am,  I  think,  a  better  correspondent 
than  you  two  put  together.  I  will  venture  to  say  that  I  have 
written  more  letters  by  a  good  many  than  I  have  received, 
and  this  with  India  and  the  Edinburgh  Review  on  my  hands ; 
the  "  Life  of  Mirabeau "  to  be  criticised ;  the  Rajah  of  Tra- 
vancore  to  be  kept  in  order ;  and  the  bad  money,  which  the 
Emperor  of  the  Burmese  has  had  the  impudence  to  send  us 


1832-'34.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  233 

by  way  of  tribute,  to  be  exchanged  for  better.  You  have 
nothing  to  do  but  to  be  good,  and  write.  Make  no  excuses,  for 
your  excuses  are  contradictory.  If  you  see  sights,  describe 
them;  for  then  you  have  subjects.  If  you  stay  at  home, 
write ;  for  then  you  have  time.  Remember  that  I  never  saw 
the  cemetery  or  the  railroad.  Be  particular,  above  all,  in 
your  accounts  of  the  Quakers.  I  enjoin  this  especially  on 
Nancy ;  for  from  Meg  I  have  no  hope  of  extracting  a  word 
of  truth. 

I  dined  yesterday  at  Holland  House :  all  lords  except  my- 
self. Lord  Radnor,  Lord  Poltimore,  Lord  King,  Lord  Rus- 
sell, and  his  uncle  Lord  John.  Lady  Holland  was  very  gra- 
cious, praised  my  article  on  Burleigh  to  the  skies,  and  told 
me,  among  other  things,  that  she  had  talked  on  the  preceding 
day  for  two  hours  with  Charles  Grant  upon  religion,  and  had 
found  him  very  liberal  and  tolerant.  It  was,  I  suppose,  the 
cholera  which  sent  her  ladyship  to  the  only  saint  in  the  minis- 
try for  ghostly  counsel.  Poor  Macdonald's  case  was  most  un- 
doubtedly cholera.  It  is  said  that  Lord  Amesbury  also  died 
of  cholera,  though  no  very  strange  explanation  seems  neces- 
sary to  account  for  the  death  of  a  man  of  eighty-four.  Yes- 
terday it  was  rumored  that  the  three  Miss  Molyneuxes,  of 
whom,  by -the -way,  there  are  only  two,  were  all  dead  in  the 
same  way ;  that  the  Bishop  of  Worcester  and  Lord  Barham 
were  no  more ;  and  many  other  foolish  stories.  I  do  not  be- 
lieve there  is  the  slightest  ground  for  uneasiness,  though  Lady 
Holland  apparently  considers  the  case  so  serious  that  she  has 
taken  her  conscience  out  of  Allen's  keeping  and  put  it  into 
the  hands  of  Charles  Grant. 

Here  I  end  my  letter ;  a  great  deal  too  long  already  for  so 
busy  a  man  to  write,  and  for  such  careless  correspondents  to 
receive.  T.  B.  M. 

To  Hannah  and  Margaret  Macaulay. 

London,  July  6th,  1832. 
Be  you  Foxes,  be  you  Pitta, 
You  must  write  to  silly  chits. 
Be  you  Tories,  be  you  Whigs, 
You  must  write  to  sad  young  gigs. 


234  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  v. 

On  whatever  board  you  are — 
Treasury,  Admiralty,  War, 
Customs,  Stamps,  Excise,  Control — 
Write  you  must,  upon  my  soul. 

So  sings  the  Judicious  Poet :  and  here  I  sit  in  my  parlor, 
looking  out  on  the  Thames,  and  divided,  like  Garrick  in  Sir 
Joshua's  picture,  between  Tragedy  and  Comedy  —  a  letter  to 
you,  and  a  bundle  of  papers  about  Hydrabad,  and  the  firm 
of  Palmer  &  Co.,  late  bankers  to  the  Nizan. 

Poor  Sir  Walter  Scott  is  going  back  to  Scotland  by  sea  to- 
morrow. All  hope  is  over ;  and  he  has  a  restless  wish  to  die 
at  home.  He  is  many  thousand  pounds  worse  than  nothing. 
Last  week  he  was  thought  to  be  so  near  his  end  that  some  peo- 
ple went,  I  understand,  to  sound  Lord  Althorp  about  a  public 
funeral.  Lord  Althorp  said,  very  like  himself,  that  if  public 
money  was  to  be  laid  out,  it  would  be  better  to  give  it  to  the 
family  than  to  spend  it  in  one  day's  show.  The  family,  how- 
ever, are  said  to  be  not  ill  off. 

I  am  delighted  to  hear  of  your  proposed  tour,  but  not  so 
well  pleased  to  be  told  that  you  expect  to  be  bad  correspond- 
ents during  your  stay  at  Welsh  inns.  Take  pens  and  ink 
with  you,  if  you  think  that  you  shall  find  none  at  The  Bard's 
Head,  or  The  Glendower  Arms.  But  it  will  be  too  bad  if  you 
send  me  no  letters  during  a  tour  which  will  furnish  so  many 
subjects.  Why  not  keep  a  journal,  and  minute  down  in  it  all 
that  you  see  and  hear?  and  remember  that  I  charge  you,  as 
the  venerable  circle  charged  Miss  Byron,  to  tell  me  of  every 
person  who  "  regards  you  with  an  eye  of  partiality." 

What  can  I  say  more?  as  the  Indians  end  their  letters. 
Did  not  Lady  Holland  tell  me  of  some  good  novels  ?  I  re- 
member "  Henry  Masterton,"  three  volumes,  an  amusing  story 
and  a  happy  termination.  Smuggle  it  in,  next  time  that  you 
go  to  Liverpool,  from  some  circulating  library ;  and  deposit  it 
in  a  lock-up  place  out  of  the  reach  of  them  that  are  clothed 
in  drab ;  and  read  it  together  at  the  curling  hour. 

My  article  on  Mirabeau  will  be  out  in  the  forthcoming 
number.  I  am  not  a  good  judge  of  my  own  compositions,  I 
fear;  but  I  think  that  it  will  be  popular.  A  Yankee  has 


1832-'34.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  235 

written  to  me  to  say  that  an  edition  of  my  works  is  about  to 
be  published  in  America  with  my  life  prefixed,  and  that  he 
shall  be  obliged  to  me  to  tell  him  when  I  was  born,  whom  I 
married,  and  so  forth.  I  guess  I  must  answer  him  slick  right 
away.  For,  as  the  Judicious  Poet  observes, 

Though  a  New  England  man  lolls  back  in  his  chair, 
With  a  pipe  in  his  mouth,  and  his  legs  in  the  air, 
Yet  surely  an  Old  England  man  such  as  I 
To  a  kinsman  by  blood  should  be  civil  and  spry. 

How  I  run  on  in  quotation !  But  when  I  begin  to  cite  the 
verses  of  our  great  writers  I  never  can  stop.  Stop  I  must, 
however.  Yours,  T.  B.  M. 

To  Hannah  and  Margaret  Macaulay. 

London,  July  18th,  1832. 

MY  DEAR  SISTEKS, — I  have  heard  from  Napier.  He  speaks 
rapturously  of  my  article  on  Dumont,*  but  sends  me  no  mon- 
ey. Allah  blacken  his  face !  as  the  Persians  say.  He  has  not 
yet  paid  me  for  Burleigh. 

We  are  worked  to  death  in  the  House  of  Commons,  and  we 
are  henceforth  to  sit  on  Saturdays.  This,  indeed,  is  the  only 
way  to  get  through  our  business.  On  Saturday  next  we  shall, 
I  hope,  rise  before  seven,  as  I  am  engaged  to  dine  on  that 

day  with  pretty,  witty  Mrs. .  I  fell  in  with  her  at  Lady 

Grey's  great  crush,  and  found  her  very  agreeable.  Her  hus- 
band is  nothing  in  society.  Rogers  has  some  very  good  sto- 
ries about  their  domestic  happiness — stories  confirming  a  the- 
ory of  mine  which,  as  I  remember,  made -you  very  angry. 

When  they  first  married,  Mrs. treated  her  husband  with 

great  respect.  But,  when  his  novel  came  out  and  failed  com- 
pletely, she  changed  her  conduct,  and  has,  ever  since  that  un- 
fortunate publication,  hen-pecked  the  poor  author  unmerciful- 
ly. And  the  case,  says  Rogers,  is  the  harder,  because  it  is  sus- 
pected that  she  wrote  part  of  the  book  herself.  It  is  like  the 

*  Dumont's  "  Life  of  Mirabeau."  See  the  "  Miscellaneous  Writings  of 
Lord  Macaulay." 


236  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.V. 

scene  in  Milton  where  Eve,  after  tempting  Adam,  abuses  him 
for  yielding  to  temptation.  But  do  you  not  remember  how  I 
told  you  that  much  of  the  love  of  women  depended  on  the 
eminence  of  men  ?  And  do  you  not  remember  how,  on  be- 
half of  your  sex,  you  resented  the  imputation  ? 

As  to  the  present  state  of  affairs  abroad  and  at  home,  I  can 
not  sum  it  up  better  than  in  these  beautiful  lines  of  the  poet : 

Peel'is  preaching,  and  Croker  is  lying. 
The  cholera's  raging,  the  people  are  dying. 
When  the  House  is  the  coolest,  as  I  am  alive, 
The  thermometer  stands  at  a  hundred  and  five. 
We  debate  in  a  heat  that  seems  likely  to  burn  us, 
Much  like  the  three  children  who  sung  in  the  furnace. 
The  disorders  at  Paris  have  not  ceased  to  plague  us: 
Don  Pedro,  I  hope,  is  ere  this  on  the  Tagus : 
In  Ireland  no  tithe  can  be  raised  by  a  parson : 
Mr.  Smithers  is  just  hanged  for  murder  and  arson : 
Dr.  Thorpe  has  retired  from  the  Lock,  and  'tis  said 
That  poor  little  Wilks  will  succeed  in  his  stead. 

Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

To  Hannah  and  Margaret  Macaulay. 

London,  July  21st,  1832. 

MY  DEAR  SISTERS, — I  am  glad  to  find  that  there  is  no  chance 
of  Nancy's  turning  Quaker.  She  would,  indeed,  make  a  queer 
kind  of  female  Friend. 

What  the  Yankees  will  say  about  me  I  neither  know  nor 
care.  I  told  them  the  dates  of  my  birth,  and  of  my  coming 
into  Parliament.  I  told  them  also  that  I  was  educated  at  Cam- 
bridge. As  to  my  early  bon-mots,  my  crying  for  holidays,  my 
walks  to  school  through  showers  of  cats  and  dogs,  I  have  left 
all  those  for  the  "  Life  of  the  late  Eight  Honorable  Thomas 
Babington  Macaulay,  with  large  extracts  from  his  correspond- 
ence, in  two  volumes,  by  the  Yery  Rev.  J.  Macaulay,  Dean  of 
Durham,  and  Rector  of  Bishopsgate,  with  a  superb  portrait 
from  the  picture  by  Pickersgill  in  the  possession  of  the  Mar- 
quis of  Lansdowne." 

As  you  like  my  verses,  I  will  some  day  or  other  write  you 
a  whole  rhyming  letter.  I  wonder  whether  any  man  ever 


1832-'34.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  237 

wrote  doggerel  so  easily.  I  run  it  off  just  as  fast  as  my  pen 
can  move,  and  that  is  faster  by  about  three  words  in  a  minute 
than  any  other  pen  that  I  know.  This  comes  of  a  school-boy 
habit  of  writing  verses  all  day  long.  Shall  I  tell  you  the 
news  in  rhyme  ?  I  think  I  will  send  you  a  regular  sing-song 
gazette. 

We  gained  a  victory  last  night  as  great  as  e'er  was  known. 

We  beat  the  opposition  upon  the  Russian  loan. 

They  hoped  for  a  majority,  and  also  for  our  places. 

We  won  the  day  by  seventy-nine.     You  should  have  seen  their  faces. 

Old  Croker,  when  the  shout  went  down  our  rank,  looked  blue  with 

rage. 

You'd  have  said  he  had  the  cholera  in  the  spasmodic  stage. 
Dawson  was  red  with  ire  as  if  his  face  were  smeared  with  berries ; 
But  of  all  human  visages  the  worst  was  that  of  Herries. 
Though  not  his  friend,  my  tender  heart  I  own  could  not  but  feel 
A  little  for  the  misery  of  poor  Sir  Robert  Peel ! 
Bat  hang  the  dirty  Tories!  and  let  them  starve  and  pine! 
Huzza  for  the  majority  of  glorious  seventy-nine ! 

Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M, 

To  Hannah  and  Margaret  Macaulay. 

House  of  Commons  Smoking-room,  July  23d,  1832. 
MY  DEAR  SISTERS, — I  am  writing  here,  at  eleven  at  night, 
in  this  filthiest  of  all  filthy  atmospheres,  and  in  the  vilest  of 
all  vile  company ;  with  the  smell  of  tobacco  in  my  nostrils, 

and  the  ugly,  hypocritical  face  of  Lieutenant before  my 

eyes.  There  he  sits  writing  opposite  to  me.  To  whom,  for 
a  ducat?  To  some  eecretary  of  an  Hibernian  Bible  Socie- 
ty ;  or  to  some  old  woman  who  gives  cheap  tracts,  instead  of 
blankets,  to  the  starving  peasantry  of  Connemara ;  or  to  some 
good  Protestant  lord  who  bullies  his  Popish  tenants.  Reject 
not  my  letter,  though  it  is  redolent  of  cigars  and  genuine  pig- 
tail ;  for  this  is  the  room— 

The  room — but  I  think  I'll  describe  it  in  rhyme, 

That  smells  of  tobacco  and  chloride  of  lime. 

The  smell  of  tobacco  was  always  the  same : 

But  the  chloride  was  brought  since  the  cholera  came. 

But  I  must  return  to  prose,  and  tell  you  all  that  has  fallen 


238  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  v. 

out  since  I  wrote  last.  I  have  been  dining  with  the  Listers, 
at  Knightsbridge.  They  are  in  a  very  nice  house  next,  or  al- 
most next,  to  that  which  the  Wilberf  orces  had.  We  had  quite 
a  family  party.  There  were  George  Villiers,  and  Hyde  Vill- 
iers,  and  Edward  Villiers.  Charles,  was  not  there.  George 
and  Hyde  rank  very  high  in  my  opinion.  I  liked  their  be- 
havior to  their  sister  much.  She  seems  to  be  the  pet  of  the 
whole  family ;  and  it  is  natural  that  she  should  be  so.  Their 
manners  are  softened  by  her  presence;  and  any  roughness 
and  sharpness  which  they  have  in  intercourse  with  men  van- 
ish at  once.  They  seem  to  love  the  very  ground  that  she 
treads  on ;  and  she  is  undoubtedly  a  charming  woman — pret- 
ty, clever,  lively,  and  polite. 

I  was  asked  yesterday  evening  to  go  to  Sir  John  Burke's  to 
meet  another  heroine  who  was  very  curious  to  see  me.  "Whom 
do  you  think  ?  Lady  Morgan.  I  thought,  however,  that,  if  I 
went,  I  might  not  improbably  figure  in  her  next  novel ;  and, 
as  I  am  not  ambitious  of  such  an  honor,  I  kept  away.  If  I 
could  fall  in  with  her  at  a  great  party,  where  I  could  see  un- 
seen and  hear  unheard,  I  should  very  much  like  to  make  ob- 
servations on  her ;  but  I  certainly  will  not,  if  I  can  help  it, 
meet  her  face  to  face,  lion  to  lioness. 

That  confounded,  chattering has  just  got  into  an  argu- 
ment about  the  Church  with  an  Irish  papist  who  has  seated 
himself  at  my  elbow ;  and  they  keep  such  a  din  that  I  can 
not  tell  what  I  am  writing.  There  they  go.  The  lord  lieu- 
tenant— the  Bishop  of  Derry — Magee — O'Connell — your  Bi- 
ble meetings — your  Agitation  meetings — the  propagation  of 
the  Gospel — Maynooth  College — the  Seed  of  the  Woman  shall 
bruise  the  Serpent's  head.  My  dear  lieutenant,  you  will  not 
only  bruise  but  break  my  head  with  your  clatter.  Mercy ! 
mercy !  However,  here  I  am  at  the  end  of  my  letter,  and  I 
shall  leave  the  two  demoniacs  to  tear  each  other  to  pieces. 
Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

To  Hannah  and  Margaret  Macaulay. 

Library  of  the  H.  of  C.,  July  30th,  1832, 11  o'clock  at  night. 

MY  DEAK  SisTEKSj — Here  I  am.     Daniel  Whittle  Harvey  is 


1832-'34.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  239 

speaking :  the  House  is  thin ;  the  subject  is  dull ;  and  I  have 
stolen  away  to  write  to  you.  Lushington  is  scribbling  at  my 
side.  No  sound  is  heard  but  the  scratching  of  our  pens,  and 
the  ticking  of  the  clock.  We  are  in  a  far  better  atmosphere 
than  in  the  smoking-room,  whence  I  wrote  to  you  last  week ; 
and  the  company  is  more  decent,  inasmuch  as  that  naval  of- 
ficer, whom  Nancy  blames  me  for  describing  in  just  terms,  is 
not  present. 

By-the-bye,  you  know  doubtless  the  lines  which  are  in  the 
mouth  of  every  member  of  Parliament,  depicting  the  compar- 
ative merits  of  the  two  rooms.  They  are,  I  think,  very  happy. 

If  thou  goest  into  the  smoking-room 
Three  plagues  will  thee  befall — 
The  chloride  of  lime,  the  tobacco-smoke, 
And  the  captain,  who's  worst  of  all — 

The  canting  sea-captain, 

The  prating  sea-captain, 
The  captain,  who's  worst  of  all. 

If  thou  goest  into  the  library 
Three  good  things  will  thee  befall — 
Very  good  books,  and  very  good  air, 
And  M*c**l*y,  who's  best  of  all — 

The  virtuous  M*c**l*y, 

The  prudent  M*c**l*y, 
M*c**l*y,  who's  best  of  all. 

Oh,  how  I  am  worked !  I  never  see  Fanny  from  Sunday  to 
Sunday.  All  my  civilities  wait  for  that  blessed  day ;  and  I 
have  so  many  scores  of  visits  to  pay  that  I  can  scarcely  find 
time  for  any  of  that  Sunday  reading  in  which,  like  Nancy,  I 
am  in  the  habit  of  indulging.  Yesterday,  as  soon  as  I  was 
fixed  in  my  best  and  had  breakfasted,  I  paid  a  round  of  calls 
to  all  my  friends  who  had  the  cholera.  Then  I  walked  to  all 
the  clubs  of  which  I  am  a  member  to  see  the  newspapers. 
The  first  of  these  two  works  you  will  admit  to  be  a  work  of 
mercy ;  the  second,  in  a  political  man,  one  of  necessity.  Then, 
like  a  good  brother,  I  walked  under  a  burning  sun  to  Ken- 
sington to  ask  Fanny  how  she  did,  and  staid  there  two  hours. 
Then  I  went  to  Knightsbridge  to  call  on  Mrs.  Lister,  and 


LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  v. 

chatted  with  her  till  it  was  time  to  go  and  dine  at  the  Athe- 
naeum. Then  I  dined,  and  after  dinner,  like  a  good  young 
man,  I  sat  and  read  Bishop  Heber's  journal  till  bed -time. 
There  is  a  Sunday  for  you !  I  think  that  I  excel  in  the  diary 
line.  I  will  keep  a  journal,  like  the  bishop,  that  my  memory 

may 

Smell  sweet  and  blossom  in  the  dust. 

Next  Sunday  I  am  to  go  to  Lord  Lansdowne's  at  Richmond, 
so  that  I  hope  to  have  something  to  tell  you.  But  on  second 
thoughts  I  will  tell  you  nothing,  nor  ever  will  write  to  you 
again,  nor  ever  speak  to  you  again.  I  have  no  pleasure  in 
writing  to  undutiful  sisters.  "Why  do  you  not  send  me  long- 
er letters  ?  But  I  am  at  the  end  of  my  paper,  so  that  I  have 
no  more  room  to  scold.  Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

To  Hannah  and  Margaret  Macaulay. 

London,  August  14th,  1832. 

MY  DEAE  SISTERS, — Our  work  is  over  at  last ;  not,  however, 
till  it  has  half  killed  us  all.*  On  Saturday  we  met  for  the 
last  time,  I  hope,  on  business.  When  the  House  rose,  I  set 
off  for  Holland  House.  We  had  a  small  party,  but  a  very 
distinguished  one.  Lord  Grey,  the  Chancellor,  Lord  Palmer- 
ston,  Luttrell,  and  myself  were  the  only  guests.  Allen  was  of 
course  at  the  end  of  the  table,  carving  the  dinner  and  sparring 
with  my  lady.  The  dinner  was  not  so  good  as  usual ;  for  the 
French  cook  was  ill ;  and  her  ladyship  kept  up  a  continued 
lamentation  during  the  whole  repast.  I  should  never  have 


*  On  the  8th  of  August,  1832,  Macaulay  writes  to  Lord  Mahon :  "  We 
are  now  strictly  on  duty.  No  furloughs  even  for  a  dinner  engagement,  or 
a  sight  of  Taglioni's  legs,  can  be  obtained.  It  is  very  hard  to  keep  forty 
members  in  the  House.  Sibthorpe  and  Leader  are  on  the  watch  to  count 
us  out ;  and  from  six  till  two  we  never  venture  farther  than  the  smoking- 
room  without  apprehension.  In  spite  of  all  our  exertions,  the  end  of  the 
session  seems  farther  and  farther  off  every  day.  If  you  would  do  me  the 
favor  of  inviting  Sibthorpe  to  Chevening  Park  you  might  be  the  means 
of  saving  my  life,  and  that  of  thirty  or  forty  more  of  us,  who  are  forced  to 
swallow  the  last  dregs  of  the  oratory  of  this  Parliament ;  and  nauseous 
dregs  they  are." 


1832-'34.]  LOED  MACAULAY.  241 

found  out  that  eveiy  thing  was  not  as  it  should  be  but  for 
her  criticisms.  The  soup  was  too  salt ;  the  cutlets  were  not 
exactly  comme  ilfaut;  and  the  pudding  was  hardly  enough 
boiled.  I  was  amused  to  hear  from  the  splendid  mistress  of 

such  a  house  the  same  sort  of  apologies  which made 

when  her  cook  forgot  the  joint  and  sent  up  too  small  a  dinner 
to  table.  I  told  Luttrell  that  it  was  a  comfort  to  me  to  find 
that  no  rank  was  exempted  from  these  afflictions. 

They  talked  about 's  marriage.  Lady  Holland  vehe- 
mently defended  the  match ;  and,  when  Allen  said  that 

had  caught  a  Tartar,  she  quite  went  off  into  one  of  her  tan- 
trums :  "  She  a  Tartar !  Such  a  charming  girl  a  Tartar !  He 
is  a  very  happy  man,  and  your  language  is  insufferable ;  in- 
sufferable, Mr.  Allen."  Lord  Grey  had  all  the  trouble  in  the 
world  to  appease  her.  His  influence,  however,  is  very  great. 
He  prevailed  on  her  to  receive  Allen  again  into  favor,  and  to 
let  Lord  Holland  have  a  slice  of  melon,  for  which  he  had  been 
petitioning  most  piteously,  but  which  she  had  steadily  refused 
on  account  of  his  gout.  Lord  Holland  thanked  Lord  Grey 
for  his  intercession.  "Ah,  Lord  Grey,  I  wish  you  were  always 
here.  It  is  a  fine  thing  to  be  prime  minister."  This  tattle 
is  worth  nothing,  except  to  show  how  much  the  people  whose 
names  will  fill  the  history  of  our  times  resemble  in  all  essen- 
tial matters  the  quiet  folks  who  live  in  Mecklenburg  Square 
and  Brunswick  Square. 

I  slept  in  the  room  which  was  poor  Mackintosh's.  The  next 
day,  Sunday,  -  -  came  to  dinner.  He  scarcely  ever  speaks 
in  the  society  of  Holland  House.  Rogers,  who  is  the  bitter- 
est and  most  cynical  observer  of  little  traits  of  character  that 
ever  I  knew,  once  said  to  me  of  him :  "  Observe  that  man. 
He  never  talks  to  men ;  he  never  talks  to  girls ;  but,  when  he 
can  get  into  a  circle  of  old  tabbies,  he  is  just  in  his  element. 
He  will  sit  clacking  with  an  old  woman  for  hours  together. 
That  always  settles  my  opinion  of  a  young  fellow." 

I  am  delighted  to  find  that  you  like  my  review  on  Mira- 
beau,  though  I  am  angry  with  Margaret  for  grumbling  at 
my  Scriptural  allusions,  and  still  more  angry  with  Nancy  for 
denying  my  insight  into  character.  It  is  one  of  my  strong 

YOL.  I.— 16 


242  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP,  v- 

points.     If  she  knew  how  far  I  see  into  hers,  she  would  be 
ready  to  hang  herself.    Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

To  Hannah  and  Margaret  Macaulay. 

London,  August  16th,  1832. 

MY  DEAH  SISTERS, — "We  begin  to  see  a  hope  of  liberation. 
To-morrow,  or  on  Saturday  at  furthest,  we  hope  to  finish  our 
business.  I  did  not  reach  home  till  four  this  morning,  after 
a  most  fatiguing  and  yet  rather  amusing  night.  "What  passed 
will  not  find  its  way  into  the  papers,  as  the  gallery  was  locked 
during  most  of  the  time.  So  I  will  tell  you  the  story. 

There  is  a  bill  before  the  House  prohibiting  those  proces- 
sions of  Orangemen  which  have  excited  a  good  deal  of  irri- 
tation in  Ireland.  This  bill  was  committed  yesterday  night. 
Shaw,  the  Recorder  of  Dublin,  an  honest  man  enough,  but  a 
bitter  Protestant  fanatic,  complained  that  it  should  be  brought 
forward  so  late  in  the  session.  Several  of  his  friends,  he  said, 
had  left  London  believing  that  the  measure  had  been  aban- 
doned. It  appeared,  however,  that  Stanley  and  Lord  Althorp 
had  given  fair  notice  of  their  intention  ;  so  that  if  the  absent 
members  had  been  mistaken,  the  fault  was  their  own ;  and  the 
House  was  for  going  on.  Shaw  said  warmly  that  he  would 
resort  to  all  the  means  of  delay  in  his  power,  and  moved  that 
the  chairman  should  leave  the  chair.  The  motion  was  nega- 
tived by  forty  votes  to  two.  Then  the  first  clause  was  read. 
Shaw  divided  the  House  again  on  that  clause.  He  was  beaten 
by  the  same  majority.  He  moved  again  that  the  chairman 
should  leave 'the  chair.  He  was  beaten  again.  He  divided 
on  the  second  clause.  He  was  beaten  again.  He  then  said 
that  he  was  sensible  that  he  was  doing  very  wrong ;  that  his 
conduct  was  unhandsome  and  vexatious;  that  he  heartily 
begged  our  pardons ;  but  that  he  had  said  that  he  would  de- 
lay the  bill  as  far  as  the  forms  of  the  House  would  permit ; 
and  that  he  must  keep  his  word.  Now  came  a  discussion  by 
which  Nancy,  if  she  had  been  in  the  ventilator,*  might  have 

*  A  circular  ventilator,  in  the  roof  of  the  House  of  Commons,  was  the 
only  Ladies'  Gallery  that  existed  in  the  year  1832. 


1833-'34.]  „      LORD  MACAULAY.  243 

been  greatly  edified,  touching  the  nature  of  vows ;  whether 
a  man's  promise  given  to  himself — a  promise  from  which  no- 
body could  reap  any  advantage,  and  which  every  body  wished 
him  to  violate — constituted  an  obligation.  Jephtha's  daugh- 
ter was  a  case  in  point,  and  was  cited  by  scmebody  sitting 
near  me.  Peregrine  Courtenay  on  one  side  of  the  House,  and 
Lord  Palmerston  on  the  other,  attempted  to  enlighten  the 
poor  Orangeman  on  the  question  of  casuistry.  They  might 
as  well  have  preached  to  any  madman  out  of  St.  Luke's.  "  I 
feel,"  said  the  silly  creature,  "  that  I  am  doing  wrong,  and 
acting  very  unjustifiably.  If  gentlemen  will  forgive  me,  I 
will  never  do  so  again.  But  I  must  keep  my  word."  "We 
roared  with  laughter  every  time  he  repeated  his  apologies. 
The  orders  of  the  House  do  not  enable  any  person  absolutely 
to  stop  the  progress  of  a  bill  in  committee,  but  they  enable 
him  to  delay  it  grievously.  We  divided  seventeen  times,  and 
between  every  division  this  vexatious  Irishman  made  us  a 
speech  of  apologies  and  self-condemnation.  Of  the  two  who 
had  supported  him  at  the  beginning  of  his  freak  one  soon 
sneaked  away.  The  other,  Sibthorpe,  staid  to  the  last,  not 
expressing  remorse  like  Shaw,  but  glorying  in  the  unaccom- 
modating temper  he  showed  and  in  the  delay  which  he  pro- 
duced. At  last  the  bill  went  through.  Then  Shaw  rose; 
congratulated  himself  that  his  vow  was  accomplished ;  said 
that  the  only  atonement  he  could  make  for  conduct  so  un- 
justifiable was  to  vow  that  he  would  never  make  such  a 
vow  again;  promised  to  let  the  bill  go  through  its  future 
stages  without  any  more  divisions ;  and  contented  himself 
with  suggesting  one  or  two  alterations  in  the  details.  "I 
hint  at  these  amendments,"  he  said.  "If  the  Secretary  for 
Ireland  approves  of  them,  I  hope  he  will  not  refrain  from  in- 
troducing them  because  they  are  brought  forward  by  me.  I 
am  sensible  that  I  have  forfeited  all  claim  to  the  favor  of  the 
House.  I  will  not  divide  on  any  future  stage  of  the  bill." 
We  were  all  heartily  pleased  with  these  events ;  for  the  truth 
was  that  the  seventeen  divisions  occupied  less  time  than  a  real 
hard  debate  would  have  done,  and  were  infinitely  more  amus- 
ing. The  oddest  part  of  the  business  is  that  Shaw's  frank, 


LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.V. 

good-natured  way  of  proceeding,  absurd  as  it  was,  has  made 
him  popular.  He  was  never  so  great  a  favorite  with  the 
House  as  after  harassing  it  for  two  or  three  hours  with  the 
most  frivolous  opposition.  This  is  a  curious  trait  of  the 
House  of  Commons.  Perhaps  you.  will  find  this  long  story, 
which  I  have  not  time  to  read  over  again,  very  stupid  and  un- 
intelligible. But  I  have  thought  it  my  duty  to  set  before 
you  the  evil  consequences  of  making  vows  rashly  and  adher- 
ing to  .them  superstitiously ;  for  in  truth,  my  Christian  breth- 
ren, or  rather  my  Christian  sisters,  let  us  consider,  etc.,  etc.,  etc. 
But  I  reserve  the  sermon  on  promises,  which  I  had  intended 
to  preach,  for  another  occasion.  Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

To  Hannah  and  Margaret  Macaulay. 

London,  August  17th,  1832. 

MY  DEAR  SISTERS, — I  brought  down  my  story  of  Holland 
House  to  dinner-time  on  Saturday  evening.  To  resume  my 
narrative,  I  slept  there  on  Sunday  night.  On  Monday  morn- 
ing, after  breakfast,  I  walked  to  town  with  Luttrell,  whom  I 
found  a  delightful  companion.  Before  we  went,  we  sat  and 
chatted  with  Lord  Holland  in  the  library  for  a  quarter  of  an 
hour.  He  was  very  entertaining.  He  gave  us  an  account  of 
a  visit  which  he  paid  long  ago  to  the  court  of  Denmark,  and 
of  King  Christian,  the  madman,  who  was  at  last  deprived  of 
all  real  share  in  the  government  on  account  of  his  infirmity. 
"  Such  a  Tom  of  Bedlam  I  never  saw,"  said  Lord  Holland. 
"  One  day  the  Neapolitan  Embassador  came  to  the  levee,  and 
made  a  profound  bow  to  his  majesty.  His  majesty  bowed 
still  lower.  The  Neapolitan  bowed  down  his  head  almost  to 
the  ground  ;  when,  behold !  the  king  clapped  his  hands  on  his 
excellency's  shoulders,  and  jumped  over  him  like  a  boy  play- 
ing at  leap-frog.  Another  day  the  English  Embassador  was 
sitting  opposite  the  king  at  dinner.  His  majesty  asked  him 
to  take  wine.  The  glasses  were  filled.  The  embassador  bow- 
ed, and  put  the  wine  to  his  lips.  The  king  grinned  hideous- 
ly, and  threw  his  wine  into  the  face  of  one  of  the  footmen. 
The  other  guests  kept  the  most  profound  gravity ;  but  the 
Englishman,  who  had  but  lately  come  to  Copenhagen,  though 


l«32-'34.]  LOED  MACAULAY  245 

a  practiced  diplomatist,  could  not  help  giving  some  signs  of 
astonishment.  The  king  immediately  addressed  him  in  French : 
1  Eh,  mais,  Monsieur  PEnvoye  d'Angleterre,  qu'avez  -  vous 
done  ?  Pourquoi  riez-vous  ?  Est-ce  qu'il  y  ait  quelque  chose 
qui  vous  ait  diverti  ?  Faites-moi  le  plaisir  de  me  1'indiquer. 
J'aime  beaucoup  les  ridicules.' " 

Parliament  is  up  at  last.  We  official  men  are  now  left 
alone  at  the  West  End  of  London,  and  are  making  up  for  our 
long  confinement  in  the  mornings  by  feasting  together  at  night. 
On  Wednesday  I  dined  with  Labouchere  at  his  official  resi- 
dence in  Somerset  House.  It  is  well  that  he  is  a  bachelor; 
for  he  tells  me  that  the  ladies,  his  neighbors,  make  bitter  com- 
plaints of  the  unfashionable  situation  in  which  they  are  cruelly 
obliged  to  reside  gratis.  Yesterday  I  dined  with  Will  Brough- 
am, and  an  official  party,  in  Mount  Street.  We  are  going  to 
establish  a  Club  to  be  confined  to  members  of  the  House  of 
Commons  in  place  under  the  present  Government,  who  are  to 
dine  together  weekly  at  Grillon's  Hotel,  and  to  settle  the  af- 
fairs of  the  state  better,  I  hope,  than  our  masters  at  their  cab- 
inet dinners.  Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

To  Homnah  M.  Macaulay. 

London,  September  20th,  1832. 

MY  DEAR  SISTEK, — I  am  at  home  again  from  Leeds,  where 
every  thing  is  going  on  as  well  as  possible.  I,  and  most  of 
my  friends,  feel  sanguine  as  to  the  result.  About  half  my 
day  was  spent  in  speaking,  and  hearing  other  people  speak ; 
in  squeezing  and  being  squeezed  ;  in  shaking  hands  with  peo- 
ple whom  I  never  saw  before,  and  whose  faces  and  names  I 
forget  within  a  minute  after  being  introduced  to  them.  The 
rest  was  passed  in  conversation  with  my  leading  friends,  who 
are  very  honest,  substantial  manufacturers.  They  feed  me  on 
roast-beef  and  Yorkshire  pudding  ;  at  night  they  put  me  into 
capital  bedrooms ;  and  the  only  plague  which  they  give  me 
is  that  they  are  always  begging  me  to  mention  some  food  or 
wine  for  which  I  have  a  fancy,  or  some  article  of  comfort  and 
convenience  which  I  may  wish  them  to  procure. 
.  I  traveled  to  town  with  a  family  of  children  who  eat  with- 


246  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  v. 

out  intermission  from  Market  Harborough,  where  they  got 
into  the  coach,  to  the  Peacock  at  Islington,  where  they  got  out 
of  it.  They  breakfasted  as  if  they  had  fasted  all  the  preced- 
ing day.  They  dined  as  if  they  had  never  breakfasted.  They 
eat  on  the  road  one  large  basket  of  sandwiches,  another  of 
fruit,  and  a  boiled  fowl :  besides  which  there  was  not  an  or- 
ange -  girl,  or  an  old  man  with  cakes,  or  a  boy  with  filberts, 
who  came  to  the  coach-side  when  we  stopped  to  change  horses, 
of  whom  they  did  not  buy  something. 

I  am  living  here  by  myself,  with  no  society,  or  scarcely  any, 
except  my  books.  I  read  a  play  of  Calderon  before  I  break- 
fast ;  then  look  over  the  newspaper ;  frank  letters ;  scrawl  a 
line  or  two  to  a  foolish  girl  in  Leicestershire ;  and  walk  to  my 
office.  There  I  stay  till  near  five,  examining  claims  of  money- 
lenders on  the  native  sovereigns  of  India,  and  reading  Parlia- 
mentary papers.  I  am  beginning  to  understand  something 
about  the  Bank,  and  hope,  when  next  I  go  to  Eothley  Temple, 
to  be  a  match  for  the  whole  firm  of  Mansfield  and  Babington 
on  questions  relating  to  their  own  business.  When  I  leave 
the  board,  I  walk  for  two  hours ;  then  I  dine ;  and  I  end  the 
day  quietly  over  a  basin  of  tea  and  a  novel. 

On  Saturday  I  go  to  Holland  House,  and  stay  there  till 
Monday.  Her  ladyship  wants  me  to  take  up  my  quarters  al- 
most entirely  there;  but  I  love  my  own  chambers  and  inde- 
pendence, and  am  neither  qualified  nor  inclined  to  succeed  Al- 
len in  his  post.  On  Friday  week,  that  is  to-morrow  week,  I 
shall  go  for  three  days  to  Sir  George  Philips's,  at  Weston,  in 
Warwickshire.  He  has  written  again  in  terms  half  complain- 
ing ;  and,  though  I  can  ill  spare  time  for  the  visit,  yet,  as  he 
was  very  kind  to  me  when  his  kindness  was  of  some  conse- 
quence to  me,  I  can  not,  and  will  not,  refuse.  Ever  yours, 

T.  B.  M. 
To  Hannah  M.  Macaulay. 

London,  September  25th,  1832. 

MY  DEAB  SISTEE, — I  went  on  Saturday  to  Holland  House, 
and  staid  there  Sunday.  It  was  legitimate  Sabbath  employ- 
ment— visiting  the  sick — which,  as  you  well  know,  always 
stands  first  among  the  works  of  mercy  enumerated  in  good 


1832-'34.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  247 

Looks.  My  lord  was  ill,  and  my  lady  thought  herself  so.  He 
was,  during  the  greater  part  of  the  day,  in  bed.  For  a  few 
hours  he  lay  on  his  sofa,  wrapped  in  flannels.  I  sat  by  him 
about  twenty  minutes,  and  was  then  ordered^  away.  He  was 
very  weak  and  languid ;  and,  though  the  torture  of  the  gout 
was  over,  was  still  in  pain ;  but  he  retained  all  his  courage, 
and  all  his  sweetness  of  temper.  I  told  his  sister  that  I  did 
not  think  that  he  was  suffering  much.  "I  hope  not,"  said 
she;  "but  it  is  impossible  to  judge  by  what  he  says;  for 
through  the  sharpest  pain  of  the  attack  he  never  complained." 
I  admire  him  more,  I  think,  than  any  man  whom  I  know. 
He  is  only  fifty-seven  or  fifty-eight.  He  is  precisely  the  man 
to  whom  health  would  be  particularly  valuable,  for  he  has 
the  keenest  zest  for  those  pleasures  which  health  would  en- 
able him  to  enjoy.  He  is,  however,  an  invalid  and  a  cripple. 
He  passes  some  weeks  of  every  year  in  extreme  torment. 
When  he  is  in  his  best  health  he  can  only  limp  a  hundred 
yards  in  a  day.  Yet  he  never  says  a  cross  word.  The  sight 
of  him  spreads  good  humor  over  the  face  of  every  one  who 
comes  near  him.  His  sister,  an  excellent  old  maid  as  ever 
lived,  and  the  favorite  of  all  the  young  people  of  her  ac- 
quaintance, says  that  it  is  quite  a  pleasure  to  nurse  him.  She 
was  reading  "  The  Inheritance  "  to  him  as  he  lay  in  bed,  and 
he  enjoyed  it  amazingly.  She  is  a  famous  reader ;  more 
quiet  and  less  theatrical  than  most  famous  readers,  and  there- 
fore the  fitter  for  the  bedside  of  a  sick  man.  Her  ladyship 
had  fretted  herself  into  being  ill,  could  eat  nothing  but  the 
breast  of  a  partridge,  and  was  frightened  out  of  her  wits  by 
hearing  a  dog  howl.  She  was  sure  that  this  noise  portended 
her  death,  or  my  lord's.  Toward  the  evening,  however,  she 
brightened  up,  and  was  in  very  good  spirits.  My  visit  was 
not  very  lively.  They  dined  at  four,  and  the  company  was, 
as  you  may  suppose  at  this  season,  but  scanty.  Charles  Gre- 
ville,  commonly  called,  Heaven  knows  why,  Punch  Greville, 
came  on  the  Saturday.  Byng,  named  from  his  hair  Poodle 
Byng,  came  on  the  Sunday.  Allen,  like  the  poor,  we  had  with 
us  always.  I  was  grateful,  however,  for  many  pleasant  even- 
ings passed  there  when  London  was  full  and  Lord  Holland 


248  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  v. 

out  of  bed.  I  therefore  did  my  best  to  keep  the  house  alive. 
I  had  the  library  and  the  delightful  gardens  to  myself  during 
most  of  the  day,  and  I  got  through  my  visit  very  well. 

News  you  have  in  the  papers.  Poor  Scott  is  gone ;  and  I 
can  not  be  sorry  for  it.  A  powerful  mind  in  ruins  is  the 
most  heart-breaking  thing  which  it  is  possible  to  conceive. 
Ferdinand  of  Spain  is  gone  too ;  and,  I  fear,  old  Mr.  Stephen 
is  going  fast.  I  am  safe  at  Leeds.  Poor  Hyde  Villiers  is 
very  ill.  I  am  seriously  alarmed  about  him.  Kindest  love  to 
all  Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

To  Ha/nnah  M.  Macaulay. 

Western  Honse,  September  29th,  1832. 

MY  DEAR  SISTER, — I  came  hither  yesterday,  and  found  a 
handsome  house,  pretty  grounds,  and  a  very  kind  host  and 
hostess.  The  house  is  really  very  well  planned.  I  do  not 
know  that  I  have  ever  seen  so  happy  an  imitation  of  the  do- 
mestic architecture  of  Elizabeth's  reign.  The  oriels,  towers, 
terraces,  and  battlements  are  in  the  most  perfect  keeping ;  and 
the  building  is  as  convenient  within  as  it  is  picturesque  with- 
out. A  few  weather-stains,  or  a  few  American  creepers,  and 
a  little  ivy,  would  make  it  perfect :  and  all  that  will  come,  I 
suppose,  with  time.  The  terrace  is  my  favorite  spot.  I  al- 
ways liked  "the  trim  gardens"  of  which  Milton  speaks,  and 
thought  that  Brown  and  his  imitators  went  too  far  in  bring- 
ing forests  and  sheep-walks  up  to  the  very  windows  of  draw- 
ing-rooms. 

I  came  through  Oxford.  It  was  as  beautiful  a  day  as  the 
second  day  of  our  visit,  and  the  High  Street  was  in  all  its 
glory.  But  it  made  me  quite  sad  to  find  myself  there  with- 
out you  and  Margaret.  All  my  old  Oxford  associations  are 
gone.  Oxford,  instead  of  being,  as  it  used  to  be,  the  magnifi- 
cent old  city  of  the  seventeenth  century — still  preserving  its 
antique  character  among  the  improvements  of  modern  times, 
and  exhibiting  in  the  midst  of  upstart  Birminghams  and  Man- 
chesters  the  same  aspect  which  it  wore  when  Charles  held  his 
court  at  Christchurch,  and  Rupert  led  his  cavalry  over  Magda- 
lene Bridge — is  now  to  me  only  the  place  where  I  was  so  hap- 


1832-'34.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  249 

py  with  my  little  sisters.  But  I  was  restored  to  mirth,  and 
even  to  indecorous  mirth,  by  what  happened  after  we  had  left 
the  fine  old  place  behind  us.  There  was  a  young  fellow  of 
about  five-and-twenty,  mustached  and  smartly  dressed,  in  the 
coach  with  me.  He  was  not  absolutely  uneducated,  for  he  was 
reading  a  novel, "  The  Hungarian  Brothers,"  the  whole  way. 
We  rode,  as  I  told  you,  through  the  High  Street.  The  coach 
stopped  to  dine ;  and  this  youth  passed  half  an  hour  in  the 
midst  of  that  city  of  palaces.  He  looked  about  him  with  his 
mouth  open  as  he  re-entered  the  coach,  and  all  the  while  that 
we  were  driving  away  past  the  Ratcliffe  Library,  the  Great 
Court  of  All-Souls,  Exeter,  Lincoln,  Trinity,  Balliol,  and  St. 
John's.  When  we  were  about  a  mile  on  the  road  he  spoke 
the  first  words  that  I  had  heard  him  utter.  "  That  was  a  pret- 
ty town  enough.  Pray,  sir,  what  is  it  called  ?"  I  could  not 
answer  him  for  laughing ;  but  he  seemed  quite  unconscious 
of  his  own  absurdity.  Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

During  all  the  period  covered  by  this  correspondence  the 
town  of  Leeds  was  alive  with  the  agitation  of  a  turbulent  but 
not  very  dubious  contest.  Macaulay's  relations  with  the  elect- 
ors whose  votes  he  was  courting  are  too  characteristic  to  be 
omitted  altogether  from  the  story  of  his  life,  though  the  style 
of  his  speeches  and  manifestoes  is  more  likely  to  excite  the 
admiring  envy  of  modern  members  of  Parliament  than  to  be 
taken  as  a  model  for  their  communications  to  their  own  con- 
stituents. This  young  politician,  who  depended  on  office  for 
his  bread,  and  on  a  seat  in  the  House  of  Commons  for  office, 
adopted  from  the  first  an  attitude  of  high  and  almost  peremp- 
tory independence  which  would  have  sat  well  on  a  prime  min- 
ister in  his  grand  climacteric.  The  following  letter  (some 
passages  of  which  have  been  here  omitted  and  others  slightly 
condensed)  is  strongly  marked  in  every  line  with  the  personal 
qualities  of  the  writer : 

London,  August  3d,  1832. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  am  truly  happy  to  find  that  the  opinion 
of  my  friends  at  Leeds  on  the  subject  of  canvassing  agrees 
with  that  which  I  have  long  entertained.  The  practice  of  beg- 


250  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  v. 

ging  for  votes  is,  as  it  seems  to  me,  absurd,  pernicious,  and  al- 
together at  variance  with  the  true  principles  of  representative 
government.  The  suffrage  of  an  elector  ought  not  to  be  ask- 
ed, or  to  be  given,  as  a  personal  favor.  It  is  as  much  for  the 
interest  of  constituents  to  choose  well  as  it  can  be  for  the  in- 
terest of  a  candidate  to  be  chosen.  To  request  an  honest  man 
to  vote  according  to  his  conscience  is  superfluous.  To  request 
him  to  vote  against  his  conscience  is  an  insult.  The  practice 
of  canvassing  is  quite  reasonable  under  a  system  in  which  men 
are  sent  to  Parliament  to  serve  themselves.  It  is  the  height 
of  absurdity  under  a  system  under  which  men  are  sent  to  Par- 
liament to  serve  the  public.  While  we  had  only  a  mock  rep- 
resentation, it  was  natural  enough  that  this  practice  should  be 
carried  to  a  great  extent.  I  trust  it  will  soon  perish  with  the 
abuses  from  which  it  sprung.  I  trust  that  the  great  and  in- 
telligent body  of  people  who  have  obtained  the  elective  fran- 
chise will  see  that  seats  in  the  House  of  Commons  ought  not 
to  be  given,  like  rooms  in  an  almshouse,  to  urgency  of  solici- 
tation ;  and  that  a  man  who  surrenders  his  vote  to  caresses 
and  supplications  forgets  his  duty  as  much  as  if  he  sold  it  for 
a  bank-note.  I  hope  to  see  the  day  when  an  Englishman  will 
think  it  as  great  an  affront  to  be  courted  and  fawned  upon 
in  his  capacity  of  elector  as  in  his  capacity  of  juryman.  He 
would  be  shocked  at  the  thought  of  finding  an  unjust  verdict 
because  the  plaintiff  or  the  defendant  had  been  very  civil  and 
pressing ;  and,  if  he  would  reflect,  he  would,  I  think,  be  equal- 
ly shocked  at  the  thought  of  voting  for  a  candidate  for  whose 
public  character  he  felt  no  esteem,  merely  because  that  can- 
didate had  called  upon  him,  and  begged  very  hard,  and  had 
shaken  his  hand  very  warmly.  My  conduct  is  before  the 
electors  of  Leeds.  My  opinions  shall  on  all  occasions  be  stated 
to  them  with  perfect  frankness.  If  they  approve  that  con- 
duct, if  they  concur  in  those  opinions,  they  ought,  not  for  my 
sake,  but  for  their  own,  to  choose  me  as  their  member.  To  be 
so  chosen  I  should  indeed  consider  as  a  high  and  enviable 
honor ;  but  I  should  think  it  no  honor  to  be  returned  to  Par- 
liament by  persons  who,  thinking  me  destitute  of  the  requi- 
site qualifications,  had  yet  been  wrought  upon  by  cajolery 


1832-'34.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  251 

and  importunity  to  poll  for  me  in  despite  of  their  better  judg- 
ment. 

I  wish  to  add  a  few  words  touching  a  question  which  has 
lately  been  much  canvassed ;  I  mean  the  question  of  pledges. 
In  this  letter,  and  in  every  letter  which  I  have  written  to  my 
friends  at  Leeds,  I  have  plainly  declared  my  opinions.  But  I 
think  it,  at  this  conjuncture,  my  duty  to  declare  that  I  will  give 
no  pledges.  I  will  not  bind  myself  to  make  or  to  support  any 
particular  motion.  I  will  state  as  shortly  as  I  can  some  of  the 
reasons  which  have  induced  me  to  form  this  determination. 
The  great  beauty  of  the  representative  system  is,  that  it  unites 
the  advantages  of  popular  control  with  the  advantages  arising 
from  a  division  of  labor.  Just  as  a  physician  understands 
medicine  better  than  an  ordinary  man,  just  as  a  shoe-maker 
makes  shoes  better  than  an  ordinary  man,  so  a  person  whose 
life  is  passed  in  transacting  affairs  of  state  becomes  a  better 
statesman  than  an  ordinary  man.  In  politics,  as  well  as  every 
other  department  of  life,  the  public  ought  to  have  the  means 
of  checking  those  who  serve  it.  If  a  man  finds  that  he  de- 
rives no  benefit  from  the  prescription  of  his  physician,  he  calls 
in  another.  If  his  shoes  do  not  fit  him,  he  changes  his  shoe- 
maker. But  when  he  has  called  in  a  physician  of  whom  he 
hears  a  good  report,  and  whose  general  practice  he  believes  to 
be  judicious,  it  would  be  absurd  in  him  to  tie  down  that  phy- 
sician to  order  particular  pills  and  particular  draughts.  "While 
he  continues  to  be  the  customer  of  a  shoe-maker,  it  would  be 
absurd  in  him  to  sit  by  and  mete  every  motion  of  that  shoe- 
maker's hand.  And  in  the  same  manner,  it  would,  I  think,  be 
absurd  in  him  to  require  positive  pledges,  and  to  exact  daily 
and  hourly  obedience,  from  his  representative.  My  opinion 
is,  that  electors  ought  at  first  to  choose  cautiously ;  then  to 
confide  liberally ;  and,  when  the  term  for  which  they  have  se- 
lected their  member  has  expired,  to  review  his  conduct  equita- 
bly, and  to  pronounce  on  the  whole  taken  together. 

If  the  people  of  Leeds  think  proper  to  repose  in  me  that 
confidence  which  is  necessary  to  the  proper  discharge  of  the 
duties  of  a  representative,  I  hope  that  I  shall  not  abuse  it.  If 
it  be  their  pleasure  to  fetter  their  members  by  positive  prom- 


252  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  v. 

ises,  it  is  in  their  power  to  do  so.     I  can  only  say  that  on 
such  terms  I  can  not  conscientiously  serve  them. 

I  hope,  and  feel  assured,  that  the  sincerity  with  which  I 
make  this  explicit  declaration  will,  if  it  deprive  me  of  the 
votes  of  my  friends  at  Leeds,  secure  to  me  what  I  value  far 
more  highly,  their  esteem.    Believe  me  ever,  my  dear  sir, 
Your  most  faithful  servant,  T.  B.  MACAULAY. 

This  frank  announcement,  taken  by  many  as  a  slight,  and 
by  some  as  a  downright  challenge,  produced  remonstrances 
which,  after  the  interval  of  a  week,  were  answered  by  Macau- 
lay  in  a  second  letter ;  worth  reprinting,  if  it  were  only  for 
the  sake  of  his  fine  parody  upon  the  popular  cry  which  for 
two  years  past  had  been  the  watch-word  of  Reformers. 

I  was  perfectly  aware  that  the  avowal  of  my  feelings  on  the 
subject  of  pledges  was  not  likely  to  advance  my  interest  at 
Leeds.  I  was  perfectly  aware  that  many  of  my  most  respect- 
able friends  were  likely  to  differ  from  me ;  and  therefore  I 
thought  it  the  more  necessary  to  make,  uninvited,  an  explicit 
declaration  of  my  feelings.  If  ever  there  was  a  time  when 
public  men  were  in  an  especial  measure  bound  to  speak  ike 
truth,  the  whole  truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth,  to  the  peo- 
ple, this  is  that  time.  Nothing  is  easier  than  for  a  candidate 
to  avoid  unpopular  topics  as  long  as  possible,  and  when  they 
are  forced  on  him,  to  take  refuge  in  evasive  and  unmeaning 
phrases.  Nothing  is  easier  than  for  him  to  give  extravagant 
promises  while  an  election  is  depending,  and  to  forget  them 
as  soon  as  the  return  is  made.  I  will  take  no  such  course.  I 
do  not  wish  to  obtain  a  single  vote  on  false  pretenses.  Un- 
der the  old  system  I  have  never  been  the  flatterer  of  the  great. 
Under  the  new  system  I  will  not  be  the  flatterer  of  the  peo- 
ple. The  truth,  or  what  appears  to  me  to  be  such,  may  some- 
times be  distasteful  to  those  wThose  good  opinion  I  most  value. 
I  shall  nevertheless  always  abide  by  it,  and  trust  to  their  good 
sense,  to  their  second  thoughts,  to  the  force  of  reason,  and  the 
progress  of  time.  If,  after  all,  their  decision  should  be  unfa- 
vorable to  me,  I  shall  submit  to  that  decision  with  fortitude 


1832-'34.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  253 

and  good  humor.  It  is  not  necessary  to  my  happiness  that  I 
should  sit  in  Parliament ;  but  it  is  necessary  to  my  happiness 
that  I  should  possess,  in  Parliament  or  out  of  Parliament,  the 
consciousness  of  having  done  what  is  right. 

Macaulay  had  his  own  ideas  as  to  the  limits  within  which 
constituents  are  justified  in  exerting  their  privilege  of  ques- 
tioning a  candidate  ;  and,  on  the  first  occasion  when  those  lim- 
its were  exceeded,  he  made  a  notable  example  of  the  trans- 
gressor. During  one  of  his  public  meetings,  a  voice  was 
heard  to  exclaim  from  the  crowd  in  the  body  of  the  hall, 
"An  elector  wishes  to  know  the  religious  creed  of  Mr.  Mar- 
shall and  Mr.  Macaulay."  The  last-named  gentleman  was  on 
his  legs  in  a  moment.  "  Let  that  man  stand  up  !"  he  cried. 
"  Let  him  stand  on  a  form,  where  I  can  see  him !"  The  of- 
fender, who  proved  to  be  a  Methodist  preacher,  was  hoisted  on 
to  a  bench  by  his  indignant  neighbors ;  nerving  himself  even 
in  that  terrible  moment  by  a  lingering  hope  that  he  might  yet 
be  able  to  hold  his  own.  But  the  unhappy  man  had  not  a 
chance  against  Macaulay,  who  harangued  him  as  if  he  were 
the  living  embodiment  of  religious  intolerance  and  illegiti- 
mate curiosity.  "  I  have  heard  with  the  greatest  shame  and 
sorrow  the  question  which  has  been  proposed  to  me;  and 
with  peculiar  pain  do  I  learn  that  this  question  was  proposed 
by  a  minister  of  religion.  I  do  most  deeply  regret  that  any 
person  should  think  it  necessary  to  make  a  meeting  like  this 
an  arena  for  theological  discussion.  I  will  not  be  a  party  to 
turning  this  assembly  to  such  a  purpose.  My  answer  is  short, 
and  in  one  word.  Gentlemen,  I  am  a  Christian."  At  this 
declaration  the  delighted  audience  began  to  cheer ;  but  Mac- 
aulay would  have  none  of  their  applause.  "  This  is  no  sub- 
ject," he  said,  "for  acclamation.  I  will  say  no  more.  No 
man  shall  speak  of  me  as  the  person  who,  when  this  disgrace- 
ful inquisition  was  entered  upon  in  an  assembly  of  English- 
men, brought  forward  the  most  sacred  subjects  to  be  canvassed 
here,  and  be  turned  into  a  matter  for  hissing  or  for  cheering. 
If  on  any  future  occasion  it  should  happen  that  Mr.  Carlile 
should  favor  any  large  meeting  with  his  infidel  attacks  upon 


254  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  v. 

the  Gospel,  he  shall  not  have  it  to  say  that  I  set  the  example. 
Gentlemen,  I  have  done ;  I  tell  you,  I  will  say  no  more ;  and 
if  the  person  who  has  thought  fit  to  ask  this  question  has  the 
feelings  worthy  of  a  teacher  of  religion,  he  will  not,  I  think, 
rejoice  that  he  has  called  me  forth." 

This  ill-fated  question  had  been  prompted  by  a  report,  dil- 
igently spread  through  the  town,  that  the  "Whig  candidates 
were  Unitarians ;  a  report  which,  even  if  correct,  would  prob- 
ably have  done  little  to  damage  their  electioneering  prospects. 
There  are  few  general  remarks  which  so  uniformly  hold  good 
as  the  observation  that  men  are  not  willing  to  attend  the  re- 
ligious worship  of  people  who  believe  less  than  themselves,  or 
to  vote  at  elections  for  people  who  believe  more  than  them- 
selves. While  the  congregations  at  a  high  Anglican  service  are 
in  part  composed  of  Low-churchmen  and  Broad-churchmen, 
while  Presbyterians  and  Wesleyans  have  no  objection  to  a 
sound  discourse  from  a  divine  of  the  Establishment,  it  is  sel- 
dom the  case  that  any  but  Unitarians  are  seen  inside  a  Uni- 
tarian chapel.  On  the  other  hand,  at  the  general  election  of 
1874,  when  not  a  solitary  Roman  Catholic  was  returned 
throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  island  of  Great 
Britain,  the  Unitarians  retained  their  long-acknowledged  pre- 
eminence as  the  most  overrepresented  sect  in  the  kingdom. 

While  Macaulay  was  stern  in  his  refusal  to  gratify  his  elect- 
ors with  the  customary  blandishments,  he  gave  them  plenty 
of  excellent  political  instruction ;  which  he  conveyed  to  them 
in  rhetoric,  not  premeditated  with  the  care  that  alone  makes 
speeches  readable  after  a  lapse  of  years,  but  for  this  very  rea- 
son all  the  more  effective  when  the  passion  of  the  moment 
was  pouring  itself  from  his  lips  in  a  stream  of  faultless,  but 
unstudied,  sentences.  A  course  of  mobs,  which  turned  Cob- 
den  into  an  orator,  made  of  Macaulay  a  Parliamentary  de- 
bater ;  and  the  ear  and  eye  of  the  House  of  Commons  soon 
detected,  in  his  replies  from  the  Treasury  bench,  welcome 
signs  of  the  invaluable  training  that  can  be  got  nowhere  ex- 
cept on  the  hustings  and  the  platform.  There  is  no  better 
sample  of  Macaulay's  extempore  speaking  than  the  first  words 
which  he  addressed  to  his  committee  at  Leeds  after  the  Re- 


1832-'34.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  255 

form  Bill  had  received  the  royal  assent.  "  I  find  it  difficult 
to  express  my  gratification  at  seeing  such  an  assembly  con- 
vened at  such  a  time.  All  the  history  of  our  own  country,  all 
the  history  of  other  countries,  furnishes  nothing  parallel  to  it. 
Look  at  the  great  events  in  our  own  former  history,  and  in 
every  one  of  them  which,  for  importance,  we  can  venture  to 
compare  with  the  Keform  Bill,  we  shall  find  something  to  dis- 
grace and  tarnish  the  achievement.  It  was  by  the  assistance 
of  French  arms  and  of  Roman  bulls  that  King  John  was  har- 
assed into  giving  the  Great  Charter.  In  the  times  of  Charles 
I.,  how  much  injustice,  how  much  crime,  how  much  bloodshed 
and  misery,  did  it  cost  to  assert  the  liberties  of  England !  But 
in  this  event,  great  and  important  as  it  is  in  substance,  I  con- 
fess I  think  it  still  more  important  from  the  manner  in  which 
it  has  been  achieved.  Other  countries  have  obtained  deliver- 
ances equally  signal  and  complete,  but  in  no  country  has  that 
deliverance  been  obtained  with  such  perfect  peace ;  so  entire- 
ly within  the  bounds  of  the  Constitution ;  with  all  the  forms 
of  law  observed ;  the  government  of  the  country  proceeding 
in  its  regular  course ;  every  man  going  forth  unto  his  labor 
until  the  evening.  France  boasts  of  her  three  days  of  July, 
when  her  people  rose,  when  barricades  fenced  the  streets,  and 
the  entire  population  of  the  capital  in  arms  successfully  vin- 
dicated their  liberties.  They  boast,  and  justly,  of  those  three 
days  of  July ;  but  I  will  boast  of  our  ten  days  of  May.  We, 
too,  fought  a  battle,  but  it  was  with  moral  arms.  We,  too, 
placed  an  impassable  barrier  between  ourselves  and  military 
tyranny ;  but  we  fenced  ourselves  only  with  moral  barricades. 
Not  one  crime  committed,  not  one  acre  confiscated,  not  one 
life  lost,  not  one  instance  of  outrage  or  attack  on  the  authori- 
ties or  the  laws.  Our  victory  has  not  left  a  single  family  in 
mourning.  Not  a  tear,  not  a  drop  of  blood,  has  sullied  the 
pacific  and  blameless  triumph  of  a  great  people." 

The  Tories  of  Leeds,  as  a  last  resource,  fell  to  denouncing 
Macaulay  as  a  placeman :  a  stroke  of  superlative  audacity  in 
a  party  which,  during  eight-and-forty  years,  had  been  out  of 
office  for  only  fourteen  months.  It  may  well  be  imagined 
that  he  found  plenty  to  say  in  his  own  defense.  "  The  only 


256  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  v. 

charge  which  malice  can  prefer  against  me  is  that  I  am  a 
placeman.  Gentlemen,  is  it  your  wish  that  those  persons  who 
are  thought  worthy  of  the  public  confidence  should  never  pos- 
sess the  confidence  of  the  king  ?  Is  it  your  wish  that  no  men 
should  be  ministers  but  those  whom  no  populous  places  will 
take  as  their  representatives?  By  whom,  I  ask,  has  the  He- 
form  Bill  been  carried?  By  ministers.  Who  have  raised 
Leeds  into  the  situation  to  return  members  to  Parliament? 
It  is  by  the  strenuous  efforts  of  a  patriotic  ministry  that  that 
great  result  has  been  produced.  I  should  think  that  the  Re- 
form Bill  had  done  little  for  the  people,  if  under  it  the  serv- 
ice of  the  people  was  not  consistent  with  the  service  of  the 
crown." 

Just  before  the  general  election  Hyde  Yilliers  died,  and  the 
secretaryship  to  the  Board  of  Control  became  vacant.  Mac- 
aulay  succeeded  his  old  college  friend  in  an  office  that  gave 
him  weighty  responsibility,  defined  duties,  and,  as  it  chanced, 
exceptional  opportunities  for  distinction.  About  the  same 
time,  an  event  occurred  which  touched  him  more  nearly  than 
could  any  possible  turn  of  fortune  in  the  world  of  politics. 
His  sisters,  Hannah  and  Margaret,  had  for  some  months  been 
almost  domesticated  among  a  pleasant  nest  of  villas  which  lie 
in  the  southern  suburb  of  Liverpool,  on  Dingle  Bank :  a  spot 
whose  natural  beauty  nothing  can  spoil,  until  in  the  fullness 
of  time  its  inevitable  destiny  shall  convert  it  into  docks.  The 
young  ladies  were  the  guests  of  Mr.  John  Cropper,  who  be- 
longed to  the  Society  of  Friends,  a  circumstance  which  read- 
ers who  have  got  thus  far  into  the  Macaulay  correspondence 
will  doubtless  have  discovered  for  themselves.  Before  the 
visit  was  over,  Margaret  became  engaged  to  the  brother  of 
her  host,  Mr.  Edward  Cropper,  a  man  in  every  respect  worthy 
of  the  personal  esteem  and  the  commercial  prosperity  which 
have  fallen  to  his  lot. 

There  are  many  who  will  be  surprised  at  finding  in  Macau- 
lay's  letters,  both  now  and  hereafter,  indications  of  certain 
traits  in  his  disposition  with  which  the  world,  knowing  him 
only  through  his  political  actions  and  his  published  works, 
may  perhaps  be  slow  to  credit  him ;  but  which,  taking  his  life 


1832-'34.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  257 

as  a  whole,  were  predominant  in  their  power  to  affect  his  hap- 
piness and  give  matter  for  his  thoughts.  Those  who  are  least 
partial  to  him  will  allow  that  his  was  essentially  a  virile  intel- 
lect. He  wrote,  he  thought,  he  spoke,  he  acted,  like  a  man. 
The  public  regarded  him  as  an  impersonation  of  vigor,  vivaci- 
ty, and  self-reliance ;  but  his  own  family,  together  with  one, 
and  probably  only  one  of  his  friends,  knew  that  his  affections 
were  only  too  tender  and  his  sensibilities  only  too  acute.  Oth- 
ers may  well  be  loath  to  parade  what  he  concealed ;  but  a  por- 
trait of  Macaulay  from  which  those  features  were  omitted 
would  be  imperfect  to  the  extent  of  misrepresentation ;  and  it 
must  be  acknowledged  that,  where  he  loved,  he  loved  more 
entirely,  and  more  exclusively,  than  was  well  for  himself.  It 
was  improvident  in  him  to  concentrate  such  intensity  of  feel- 
ing upon  relations  who,  however  deeply  they  were  attached 
to  him,  could  not  always  be  in  a  position  to  requite  him  with 
the  whole  of  their  time  and  the  whole  of  their  heart.  He  suf- 
fered much  for  that  improvidence ;  but  he  was  too  just  and 
too  kind  to  permit  that  others  should  suffer  with  him  ;  and  it 
is  not  for  one  who  obtained  by  inheritance  a  share  of  his  ines- 
timable affection  to  regret  a  weakness  to  which  he  considers 
himself  by  duty  bound  to  refer. 

How  keenly  Macaulay  felt  the  separation  from  his  sister  it 
is  impossible  to  do  more  than  indicate.  He  never  again  re- 
covered that  tone  of  thorough  boyishness  which  had  been  pro- 
duced by  a  long,  unbroken  habit  of  gay  and  affectionate  inti- 
macy with  those  younger  than  himself ;  indulged  in  without 
a  suspicion  on  the  part  of  any  concerned  that  it  was  in  its 
very  nature  transitory  and  precarious.  For  the  first  time  he 
was  led  to  doubt  whether  his  scheme  of  life  was  indeed  a  wise 
one ;  or,  rather,  he  began  to  be  aware  that  he  had  never  laid 
out  any  scheme  of  life  at  all.  But  with  that  unselfishness 
which  was  the  key  to  his  character  and  to  much  of  his  career, 
(resembling  in  its  quality  what  we  sometimes  admire  in  a 
woman,  rather  than  what  we  ever  detect  in  a  man),  he  took 
successful  pains  to  conceal  his  distress  from  those  over  whose 
happiness  it  otherwise  could  not  have  failed  to  cast  a  shadow. 

"  The  attachment  between  brothers  and  sisters,"  he  writes 

YOL.  I.— 17 


258  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP,  v. 

in  November,  1832,  "blameless,  amiable,  and  delightful  as  it 
is,  is  so  liable  to  be  superseded  by  other  attachments  that  no 
wise  man  ought  to  suffer  it  to  become  indispensable  to  him. 
That  women  shall  leave  the  home  of  their  birth,  and  contract 
ties  dearer  than  those  of  consanguinity,  is  a  law  as  ancient  as 
the  first  records  of  the  history  of  our  race,  and  as  unchangea- 
ble as  the  constitution  of  the  human  body  and  mind.  To  re- 
pine against  the  nature  of  things,  and  against  the  great  fund- 
amental law  of  all  society,  because,  in  consequence  of  my  own 
want  of  foresight,  it  happens  to  bear  heavily  on  me,  would  be 
the  basest  and  most  absurd  selfishness. 

"  I  have  still  one  more  stake  to  lose.  There  remains  one 
event  for  which,  when  it  arrives,  I  shall,  I  hope,  be  prepared. 
From  that  moment,  with  a  heart  formed,  if  ever  any  man's 
heart  was  formed,  for  domestic  happiness,  I  shall  have  noth- 
ing left  in  this  world  but  ambition.  There  is  no  wound,  how- 
ever, which  time  and  necessity  will  not  render  endurable: 
and,  after  all,  what  am  I  more  than  my  fathers — than  the 
millions  and  tens  of  millions  who  have  been  weak  enough  to 
pay  double  price  for  some  favorite  number  in  the  lottery  of 
life,  and  who  have  suffered  double  disappointment  when  their 
ticket  came  up  a  blank  ?" 

To  Hannah  M.  Macaulay. 

Leeds,  December  12th,  1832. 

MY  DEAR  SISTER, — The  election  here  is  going  on  as  well  as 
possible.  To-day  the  poll  stands  thus : 

Marshall,  1804 Macanlay,  1792 Sadler,  1353. 

The  probability  is  that  Sadler  will  give  up  the  contest.  If 
he  persists,  he  will  be  completely  beaten.  The  voters  are  un- 
der 4000  in  number ;  those  who  have  already  polled  are  3100 ; 
and  about  500  will  not  poll  at  all.  Even  if  we  were  not 
to  bring  up  another  man,  the  probability  is  that  we  should 
win.  On  Sunday  morning  early  I  hope  to  be  in  London  ; 
and  I  shall  see  you  in  the  course  of  the  day. 

I  had  written  thus  far  when  your  letter  was  delivered  to 
me.  I  am  sitting  in  the  midst  of  two  hundred  friends,  all 


1832-'34.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  259 

mad  with  exultation  and  party  spirit,  all  glorying  over  the 
Tories,  and  thinking  me  the  happiest  man  in  the  world.  And 
it  is  all  that  I  can  do  to  hide  my  tears,  and  to  command  my 
voice,  when  it  is  necessary  for  me  to  reply  to  their  congratu- 
lations. Dearest,  dearest  sister,  you  alone  are  now  left  to  me. 
Whom  have  I  on  earth  but  thee?  But  for  you,  in  the 
midst  of  all  these  successes,  I  should  wish  that  I  were  lying 
by  poor  Hyde  Villiers.  But  I  can  not  go  on.  I  am  wanted 
to  write  an  address  to  the  electors ;  and  I  shall  lay  it  on  Sad- 
ler pretty  heavily.  By  what  strange  fascination  is  it  that  am- 
bition and  resentment  exercise  such  power  over  minds  which 
ought  to  be  superior  to  them  ?  I  despise  myself  for  feeling 
so  bitterly  toward  this  fellow  as  I  do.  But  the  separation 
from  dear  Margaret  has  jarred  my  whole  temper.  I  am  cried 
up  here  to  the  skies  as  the  most  affable  and  kind-hearted  of 
men,  while  I  feel  a  fierceness  and  restlessness  within  me  quite 
new  and  almost  inexplicable.  Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

To  Hannah  M.  Macaulay. 

London,  December  24th,  1832. 

MY  DEAR  SISTER, — I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  let- 
ter, and  am  gratified  by  all  its  contents,  except  what  you  say 
about  your  own  cough.  As  soon  as  you  come  back,  you  shall 
see  Dr.  Chambers,  if  you  are  not  quite  well.  Do  not  oppose 
me  in  this,  for  I  have  set  my  heart  on  it. 

I  dined  on  Saturday  at  Lord  Essex's  in  Belgrave  Square. 
But  never  was  there  such  a  take-in.  I  had  been  given  to  un- 
derstand that  his  lordship's  cuisine  was  superintended  by  the 
first  French  artists,  and  that  I  should  find  there  all  the  luxu- 
ries of  the  "Almanach  des  Gourmands."  What  a  mistake ! 
His  lordship  is  luxurious  indeed,  but  in  quite  a  different  way. 
He  is  a  true  Englishman.  Not  a  dish  on  his  table  but  what 
Sir  Roger  de  Coverley,  or  Sir  Hugh  Tyrold,*  might  have  set 
before  his  guests.  A  huge  haunch  of  venison  on  the  side- 
board ;  a  magnificent  piece  of  beef  at  the  bottom  of  the  table ; 
and  before  my  lord  himself  smoked,  not  a  dindon  aux  tmffes, 

*  The  uncle  of  Miss  Barney's  Camilla. 


960  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  v. 

but  a  fat  roasted  goose  stuffed  with  sage  and  onions.  I  was 
disappointed,  but  very  agreeably ;  for  my  tastes  are,  I  fear, 
incurably  vulgar,  as  you  may  perceive  by  my  fondness  for 
Mrs.  Meeke's  novels. 

Our  party  consisted  of  Sharp ;  Lubbock ;  Watson,  M.P.  for 
Canterbury ;  and  Kich,  the  author  of  "  What  will  the  Lords 
do  ?"  who  wishes  to  be  M.P.  for  Knaresborough.  Rogers  was 
to  have  been  of  the  party ;  but  his  brother  chose  that  very 
day  to  die  upon,  so  that  poor  Sam  had  to  absent  himself.  The 
chancellor  was  also  invited,  but  he  had  scampered  off  to  pass 
his  Christmas  with  his  old  mother  in  Westmoreland.  We  had 
some  good  talk,  particularly  about  Junius's  Letters.  I  learn- 
ed some  new  facts  which  I  will  tell  you  when  we  meet.  I  am 
more  and  more  inclined  to  believe  that  Francis  was  one  of  the 
people  principally  concerned.  Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

On  the  29th  of  January,  1833,  commenced  the  first  session 
of  the  Reformed  Parliament.  The  main  incidents  of  that  ses- 
sion, so  fruitful  in  great  measures  of  public  utility,  belong  to 
general  history  ;  if  indeed  Clio  herself  is  not  fated  to  succumb 
beneath  the  stupendous  undertaking  of  turning  Hansard  into 
a  narrative  imbued  with  human  interest.  O'Connell  —  criti- 
cising the  king's  speech  at  vast  length,  and  passing  in  turns 
through  every  mood  from  the  most  exquisite  pathos  to  down- 
right and  undisguised  ferocity  —  at  once  plunged  the  House 
into  a  discussion  on  Ireland,  which  alternately  blazed  and 
smoldered  through  four  live-long  nights.  Sheil  and  Grattan 
spoke  finely ;  Peel  and  Stanley  admirably ;  Bulwer  made  the 
first  of  his  successes,  and  Cobbett  the  second  of  his  failures ; 
but  the  longest  and  the  loudest  cheers  were  those  which  greet- 
ed each  of  the  glowing  periods  in  which  Macaulay,  as  the 
champion  of  the  Whig  party,*  met  the  great  agitator  face  to 

*  "  We  are  called  base,  and  brutal,  and  bloody.  Such  are  the  epithets 
which  the  honorable  and  learned  member  for  Dublin  thinks  it  becoming  to 
pour  forth  against  the  party  to  which  he  owes  every  political  privilege 
that  he  enjoys.  The  time  will  come  when  history  will  do  justice  to  the 
Whigs  of  England,  and  will  faithfully  relate  how  much  they  did  and  suf- 
fered for  Ireland.  I  see  on  the  benches  near  me  men  who  might,  by  utter- 


1832-'34.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  261 

face  with  high,  but  not  intemperate,  defiance.  In  spite  of  this 
nattering  reception,  he  seldom  addressed  the  House.  A  sub- 
ordinate member  of  a  government,  with  plenty  to  do  in  his 
own  department,  finds  little  temptation,  and  less  encourage- 
ment, to  play  the  debater.  The  difference  of  opinion  between 
the  two  Houses  concerning  the  Irish  Church  Temporalities 
Bill,  which  constituted  the  crisis  of  the  year,  was  the  one 
circumstance  that  excited  in  Macaulay's  mind  any  very  live- 
ly emotions ;  but  those  emotions,  being  denied  their  full  and 
free  expression  in  the  oratory  of  a  partisan,  found  vent  in 
the  doleful  prognostications  of  a  despairing  patriot  which  fill 
his  letters  throughout  the  months  of  June  and  July.  His  ab- 
stinence from  the  passing  topics  of  parliamentary  controversy 
obtained  for  him  a  friendly  as  well  as  an  attentive  hearing 
from  both  sides  of  the  House  whenever  he  spoke  on  his  own 
subjects ;  and  did  much  to  smooth  the  progress  of  those  im- 
mense and  salutary  reforms  with  which  the  Cabinet  had  re- 
solved to  accompany  the  renewal  of  the  India  Company's 
charter. 

So  rapid  had  been  the  march  of  events  under  that  strange 
imperial  system  established  in  the  East  by  the  enterprise  and 

ing  one  word  against  Catholic  Emancipation — nay,  by  merely  abstaining 
from  uttering  a  word  in  favor  of  Catholic  Emancipation — have  been  re- 
turned to  this  House  without  difficulty  or  expense,  and  who,  rather  than 
wrong  their  Irish  fellow-subjects,  were  content  to  relinquish  all  the  ob- 
jects of  their  honorable  ambition,  and  to  retire  into  private  life  with  con- 
science and  fame  untarnished.  As  to  one  eminent  person,  who  seems  to 
be  regarded  with  especial  malevolence  by  those  who  ought  never  to  men- 
tion his  name  without  respect  and  gratitude,  I  will  only  say  this,  that  the 
loudest  clamor  which  the  honorable  and  learned  gentleman  can  excite 
against  Lord  Grey  will  be  trifling  when  compared  with  the  clamor  which 
Lord  Grey  withstood  in  order  to  place  the  honorable  and  learned  gentle- 
man where  he  now  sits.  Though  a  young  member  of  the  Whig  party,  I 
will  venture  to  speak  in  the  name  of  the  whole  body.  I  tell  the  honorable 
and  learned  gentleman,  that  the  same  spirit  which  sustained  us  in  a  just 
contest  for  him  will  sustain  us  in  an  equally  just  contest  against  him. 
Calumny,  abuse,  royal  displeasure,  popular  fury,  exclusion  from  office,  ex- 
clusion from  Parliament,  we  were  ready  to  endure  them  all,  rather  than 
that  he  should  be  less  than  a  British  subject.  We  never  will  suffer  him 
to  be  more. 


262  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  v. 

valor  of  three  generations  of  our  countrymen,  that  each  of  the 
periodical  revisions  of  that  system  was,  in  effect,  a  revolution. 
The  legislation  of  1813  destroyed  the  monopoly  of  the  India 
trade.  In  1833,  the  tune  had  arrived  when  it  was  impossible 
any  longer  to  maintain  the  monopoly  of  the  China  trade,  and 
the  extinction  of  this  remaining  commercial  privilege  could  not 
fail  to  bring  upon  the  company  commercial  ruin.  Skill  and 
energy,  and  caution,  however  happily  combined,  would  not  en- 
able rulers  who  were  governing  a  population  larger  than  that 
governed  by  Augustus,  and  making  every  decade  conquests 
more  extensive  than  the  conquests  of  Trajan,  to  compete  with 
private  merchants  in  an  open  market.  England,  mindful  of  the 
inestimable  debt  which  she  owed  to  the  great  company,  did 
not  intend  to  requite  her  benefactors  by  imposing  on  them  a 
hopeless  task.  Justice  and  expediency  could  be  reconciled  by 
ono  course,  and  one  only — that  of  buying  up  the  assets  and  li- 
abilities of  the  company  on  terms  the  favorable  character  of 
which  should  represent  the  sincerity  of  the  national  gratitude. 
Interest  was  to  be  paid  from  the  Indian  exchequer  at  the  rate 
of  ten  guineas  a  year  on  every  hundred  pounds  of  stock ;  the 
company  was  relieved  of  its  commercial  attributes,  and  be- 
came a  corporation  charged  with  the  function  of  ruling  Hin- 
doostan ;  and  its  directors,  as  has  been  well  observed,  remain- 
ed princes,  but  merchant-princes  no  longer. 

The  machinery  required  for  carrying  into  effect  this  gigan- 
tic metamorphosis  was  embodied  in  a  bill  every  one  of  whose 
provisions  breathed  the  broad,  the  fearless,  and  the  tolerant 
spirit  with  which  Reform  had  inspired  our  counsels.  The 
earlier  sections  placed  the  whole  property  of  the  company  in 
trust  for  the  crown,  and  enacted  that  "  from  and  after  the  22d 
day  of  April,  1834,  the  exclusive  right  of  trading  with  the  do- 
minions of  the  Emperor  of  China  and  of  trading  in  tea  shall 
cease ;"  and  then  came  clauses  which  threw  open  the  whole 
continent  of  India  as  a  place  of  residence  for  all  subjects  of 
his  majesty;  which  pronounced  the  doom  of  slavery;  and 
which  ordained  that  no  native  of  the  British  territories  in  the 
East  should,  "by  reason  only  of  his  religion,  place  of  birth, 
descent,  or  color,  be  disabled  from  holding  any  place,  office,  or 


1832-'34.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  263 

employment."  The  measure  was  introduced  by  Mr.  Charles 
Grant,  the  President  of  the  Board  of  Control,  and  was  read  a 
second  time  on  Wednesday,  the  10th  of  July.  On  that  occa- 
sion Macaulay  defended  the  bill  in  a  thin  House ;  a  circum- 
stance which  may  surprise  those  who  are  not  aware  that  on  a 
Wednesday,  and  with  an  Indian  question  on  the  paper,. Cicero 
replying  to  Hortensius  would  hardly  draw  a  quorum.  Small 
as  it  was,  the  audience  contained  Lord  John  Russell,  Peel, 
O'Connell,  and  other  masters  in  the  parliamentary  craft. 
Their  unanimous  judgment  was  summed  up  by  Charles 
Grant,  in  words  which  every  one  who  knows  the  House  of 
Commons  will  recognize  as  being  very  different  from  the 
conventional  verbiage  of  mutual  senatorial  flattery :  "  I  must 
embrace  the  opportunity  of  expressing,  not  what  I  felt  (for 
language  could  not  express  it),  but  of  making  an  attempt  to 
convey  to  the  House  my  sympathy  with  it  in  its  admiration 
of  the  speech  of  my  honorable  and  learned  friend :  a  speech 
which,  I  will  venture  to  assert,  has  never  been  exceeded  with- 
in these  walls  for  the  development  of  .statesmanlike  policy 
and  practical  good  sense.  It  exhibited  all  that  is  noble  in 
oratory ;  all  that  is  sublime,  I  had  almost  said,  in  poetry ;  all 
that  is  truly  great,  exalted,  and  virtuous  in  human  nature. 
If  the  House  at  large  felt  a  deep  interest  in  this  magnificent 
display,  it  may  judge  of  what  were  my  emotions  when  I  per- 
ceived in  the  hands  of  my  honorable  friend  the  great  prin- 
ciples which  he  expounded  glowing  with  fresh  colors  and  ar- 
rayed in  all  the  beauty  of  truth." 

There  is  no  praise  more  gratefully  treasured  than  that 
which  is  bestowed  by  a  generous  chief  upon  a  subordinate 
with  whom  he  is  on  the  best  of  terms.  Macaulay  to  the  end 
entertained  for  Lord  Glenelg  that  sentiment  of  loyalty*  which 
a  man  of  honor  and  feeling  will  always  cherish  with  regard 
to  tli3  statesman  under  whom  he  began  his  career  as  a  servant 
of  the  crown.  The  secretary  repaid  the  president  for  his  un- 

*  The  affinity  between  this  sentiment,  and  that  of  the  quaestor  toward 
his  first  proconsul,  so  well  described  in  the  orations  against  Verres,  is  one 
among  the  innumerable  points  of  resemblance  between  the  public  life  of 
ancient  Rome  and  modern  England. 


264  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  v. 

varying  kindness  and  confidence  by  helping  him  to  get  the 
bill  through  committee  with  that  absence  of  friction  which  is 
the  pride  and  delight  of  official  men.  The  vexed  questions  of 
Establishment  and  Endowment  (raised  by  the  clauses  appoint- 
ing bishops  to  Madras  and  Bombay,  and  balancing  them  with 
as  many  salaried  Presbyterian  chaplains)  increased  the  length 
of  the  debates  and  the  number  of  the  divisions ;  but  the  Gov- 
ernment carried  every  point  by  large  majorities,  and,  with 
slight  modifications  in  detail  and  none  in  principle,  the  meas- 
ure became  law  with  the  almost  universal  approbation  both  of 
Parliament  and  the  country. 

To  Hcvnnah  M.  Macaulay. 

House  of  Commons,  Monday  Night,  half-past  12. 

MY  DEAR  SISTEK, — The  papers  will  scarcely  contain  any 
account  of  what  passed  yesterday  in  the  House  of  Commons 
in  the  middle  of  the  day.  Grant  and  I  fought  a  battle  with 
Briscoe  and  O'Connell  in  defense  of  the  Indian  people,  and 
won  it  by  38  to  6.*  It  was  a  rascally  claim  of  a  dishonest 
agent  of  the  company  against  the  employers  whom  he  had 
cheated,  and  sold  to  their  own  tributaries.  The  nephew  of 
the  original  claimant  has  been  pressing  his  case  on  the  Board 
most  vehemently.  He  is  an  attorney  living  in  Russell  Square, 
and  very  likely  hears  the  word  at  St.  John's  Chapel.  He 
hears  it,  however,  to  very  little  purpose ;  for  he  lies  as  much 
as  if  he  went  to  hear  a  "  cauld  clatter  of  morality  "  at  the  par- 
ish church. 

I  remember  that  when  you  were  at  Leamington  two  years 
ago  I  used  to  fill  my  letters  with  accounts  of  the  people  with 

*  In  his  great  Indian  speech  Macaulay  referred  to  this  affair,  in  a  pas- 
sage, the  first  sentence  of  which  has,  by  frequent  quotation,  been  elevated 
into  an  apothegm :  "A  broken  head  in  Cold  Bath  Fields  produces  a  greater 
sensation  than  three  pitched  battles  in  India.  A  few  weeks  ago  we  had 
to  decide  on  a  claim  brought  by  an  individual  against  the  revenues  of  In- 
dia. If  it  had  been  an  English  question,  the  walls  would  scarcely  have 
held  the  members  who  would  have  flocked  to  the  division.  It  was  an 
Indian  question ;  and  we  could  scarcely,  by  dint  of  supplication,  make  a 
House." 


1832-'34.]  LOKD  MACAULAY.  265 

whom  I  dined.  High  life  was  new  to  me  then ;  and  now  it 
has  grown  so  familiar  that  I  should  not,  I  fear,  be  able,  as  I 
formerly  was,  to  select  the  striking  circumstances.  I  have 
dined  with  sundry  great  folks  since  you  left  London,  and  I 
have  attended  a  very  splendid  rout  at  Lord  Grey's.  I  stole 
thither,  at  about  eleven,  from  the  House  of  Commons,  with 
Stewart  Mackenzie.  I  do  not  mean  to  describe  the  beauty  of 
the  ladies,  nor  the  brilliancy  of  stars  and  uniforms.  I  mean 
only  to  tell  you  one  circumstance  which  struck,  and  even  af- 
fected me.  I  was  talking  to  Lady  Charlotte  Lindsay,  the 
daughter  of  Lord  North,  a  great  favorite  of  mine,  about  the 
apartments  and  the  furniture,  when  she  said,  with  a  good  deal 
of  emotion :  "  This  is  an  interesting  visit  to  me.  I  have  nev- 
er been  in  this  house  for  fifty  years.  It  was  here  that  I  was 
born;  I  left  it  a  child  when  my  father  fell  from  power  in 
1782,  and  I  have  never  crossed  the  threshold  since."  Then 
she  told  me  how  the  rooms  seemed  dwindled  to  her ;  how  the 
staircase,  which  appeared  to  her  in  recollection  to  be  the  most 
spacious  and  magnificent  that  she  had  ever  seen,  had  disap- 
pointed her.  She  longed,  she  said,  to  go  over  the  garrets  and 
rummage  her  old  nursery.  She  told  me  how,  in  the  No-Pop- 
ery riots  of  1780,  she  was  taken  out  of  bed  at  two  o'clock  in 
the  morning.  The  mob  threatened  Lord  North's  house.  There 
were  soldiers  at  the  windows,  and  an  immense  and  furious 
crowd  in  Downing  Street.  She  saw,  she  said,  from  her  nurs- 
ery the  fires  in  different  parts  of  London ;  but  she  did  not  un- 
derstand the  danger,  and  only  exulted  in  being  up  at  midnight. 
Then  she  was  conveyed  through  the  Park  to  the  Horse  Guards 
as  the  safest  place ;  and  was  laid,  wrapped  up  in  blankets,  on 
the  table  in  the  guard-room  in  the  midst  of  the  officers.  "And 
it  was  such  fun,"  she  said, "  that  I  have  ever  after  had  rather 
a  liking  for  insurrections." 

I  write  in  the  midst  of  a  crowd.  A  debate  on  slavery  is 
going  on  in  the  Commons ;  a  debate  on  Portugal  in  the  Lords. 
The  door  is  slamming  behind  me  every  moment,  and  people 
are  constantly  going  out  and  in.  Here  comes  Vemon  Smith. 
"  Well,  Yernon,  what  are  they  doing  ?"  "  Gladstone  has  just 
made  a  very  good  speech,  and  Ho  wick  is  answering  him." 


266  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP,  v. 

"Ay,  but  in  the  House  of  Lords  ?"  "  They  will  beat  us  by 
twenty,  they  say."  "  Well,  I  do  not  think  it  matters  much." 
"  No ;  nobody  out  of  the  House  of  Lords  cares  either  for  Don 
Pedro  or  for  Don  Miguel." 

There  is  a  conversation  between  two  official  men  in  the  Li- 
brary of  the  House  of  Commons  on  the  night  of  the  3d  of 
June,  1833,  reported  word  for  word.  To  the  historian  three 
centuries  hence  this  letter  will  be  invaluable.  To  you,  un- 
grateful as  you  are,  it  will  seem  worthless.  Ever  yours, 

T.  B.  M. 

To  Hannah  M.  Macaulay. 

Smoking-room  of  the  House  of  Commons,  June  6th,  1833. 

MY  DARLING, — Why  am  I  such  a  fool  as  to  write  to  a  gyp- 
sy at  Liverpool,  who  fancies  that  none  is  so  good  as  she  if  she 
sends  one  letter  for  my  three  ?  A  lazy  chit  whose  fingers  tire 
with  penning  a  page  in  reply  to  a  quire !  There,  miss,  you 
read  all  the  first  sentence  of  my  epistle,  and  never  knew  that 
you  were  reading  verse.  I  have  some  gossip  for  you  about 
the  Edinburgh  Review.  Napier  is  in  London,  and  has  called 
on  me  several  times.  He  has  been  with  the  publishers,  who 
tell  him  that  the  sale  is  falling  off ;  and  in  many  private  par- 
ties, where  he  hears  sad  complaints.  The  universal  cry  is  that 
the  long  dull  articles  are  the  ruin  of  the  Review.  As  to  my- 
self, he  assures  me  that  my  articles  are  the  only  things  which 
keep  the  work  up  at  all.  Longman  and  his  partners  corre- 
spond with  about  five  hundred  book-sellers  in  different  parts 
of  the  kingdom.  All  these  book-sellers,  I  find,  tell  them  that 
the  Review  sells,  or  does  not  sell,  according  as  there  are,  or 
are  not,  articles  by  Mr.  Macaulay.  So,  you  see,  I,  like  Mr. 
Darcy,*  shall  not  care  how  proud  I  am.  At  all  events,  I  can 
not  but  be  pleased  to  learn  that,  if  I  should  be  forced  to  de- 
pend on  my  pen  for  subsistence,  I  can  command  what  price  I 
choose. 

The  House  is  sitting ;  Peel  is  just  down ;  Lord  Palmerston 
is  speaking ;  the  heat  is  tremendous ;  the  crowd  stifling ;  and 

"  The  central  male  figure  in  "  Pride  and  Prejudice." 


1832-'34.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  267 

so  here  I  am  in  the  smoking-room,  with  three  Repealers  mak- 
ing chimneys  of  their  mouths  under  my  very  nose. 

To  think  that  this  letter  will  bear  to  my  Anna 
The  exquisite  scent  of  O'Connor's  Havana ! 

You  know  that  the  Lords  have  been  foolish  enough  to  pass 
a  vote*  implying  censure  on  the  ministers.  The  ministers 
do  not  seem  inclined  to  take  it  of  them.  The  king  has 
snubbed  their  lordships  properly ;  and  in  about  an  hour,  as  I 
guess  (for  it  is  near  eleven),  we  shall  have  come  to  a  reso- 
lution in  direct  opposition  to  that  agreed  to  by  the  Upper 
House.  Nobody  seems  to  care  one  straw  for  what  the  Peers 
say  about  any  public  matter.  A  resolution  of  the  Court  of 
Common  Council,  or  of  a  meeting  at  Freemasons'  Hall,  has 
often  made  a  greater  sensation  than  this  declaration  of  a 
branch  of  the  Legislature  against  the  Executive  Government. 
The  institution  of  the  peerage  is  evidently  dying  a  natural 
death. 

I  dined  yesterday — where,  and  on  what,  and  at  what  price, 
I  am  ashamed  to  tell  you.  Such  scandalous  extravagance  and 
gluttony  I  will  not  commit  to  writing.  I  blush  when  I  think 
of  it.  You,  however,  are  not  wholly  guiltless  in  this  matter. 
My  nameless  offense  was  partly  occasioned  by  Napier ;  and  I 
have  a  very  strong  reason  for  wishing  to  keep  Napier  in  good 
humor.  He  has  promised  to  be  at  Edinburgh  when  I  take  a 
certain  damsel  thither ;  to  look  out  for  very  nice  lodgings  for 
us  in  Queen  Street ;  to  show  us  every  thing  and  every  body ; 
and  to  see  us  as  far  as  Dunkeld  on  our  way  northward,  if  we 
do  go  northward.  In  general  I  abhor  visiting ;  but  at  Edin- 
burgh we  must  see  the  people  as  well  as  the  walls  and  win- 
dows ;  and  Napier  will  be  a  capital  guide.  Ever  yours, 

T.  B.  M. 


*  On  June  3d,  1833,  a  vote  of  censure  on  the  Portuguese  policy  of  the 
ministry  was  moved  by  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  and  carried  in  the  Lords 
by  79  votes  to  69.  On  June  6th  a  counter-resolution  was  carried  in  the 
Commons  by  361  votes  to  98. 


258  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  v. 

i 

To  Ha/nnah  M.  Macaulay. 

London,  June  14th,  1833. 

MY  DEAR  SISTEE, — I  do  not  know  what  you  may  have  been 
told.  I  may  have  grumbled,  for  aught  I  know,  at  not  having 
more  letters  from  you ;  but  as  to  being  angry,  you  ought  to 
know  by  this  time  what  sort  of  anger  mine  is  when  you  are 
its  object. 

You  have  seen  the  papers,  I  dare  say,  and  you  will  perceive 
that  I  did  not  speak  yesterday  night.*  The  House  was  thin. 
The  debate  was  languid.  Grant's  speech  had  done  our  work 
sufficiently  for  one  night ;  and  both  he  and  Lord  Althorp  ad- 
vised me  to  reserve  myself  for  the  second  reading. 

What  have  I  to  tell  you  ?  I  will  look  at  my  engagement- 
book,  to  see  where  I  am  to  dine.  Friday,  June  14th,  Lord 
Grey ;  Saturday,  June  15th,  Mr.  Boddington ;  Sunday,  June 
16th,  Mr.  S.  Rice  ;  Saturday,  June  22d,  Sir  R.  Inglis ;  Thurs- 
day, June  27th,  the  Earl  of  Ripon  ;  Saturday,  June  29th,  Lord 
Morpeth. 

Read,  and  envy,  and  pine,  and  die.  And  yet  I  would  give 
a  large  slice  of  my  quarter's  salary,  which  is  now  nearly  due, 
to  be  at  the  Dingle.  I  am  sick  of  lords  with  no  brains  in 
their  heads,  and  ladies  with  paint  on  their  cheeks,  and  politics, 
and  politicians,  and  that  reeking  furnace  of  a  House.  As  the 
poet  says, 

Oh !  rather  \vonld  I  see  this  day 

My  little  Nancy  well  and  merry, 
Than  the  blue  ribbon  of  Earl  Grey, 

Or  the  blue  stockings  of  Miss  Berry. 

Margaret  tells  us  that  you  are  better,  and  better,  and  better. 
I  want  to  hear  that  you  are  well.  At  all  events,  our  Scotch 
tour  will  set  you  up.  I  hope,  for  the  sake  of  the  tour,  that  we 
shall  keep  our  places ;  but  I  firmly  believe  that,  before  many 
days  have  passed,  a  desperate  attempt  will  be  made  in  the 
House  of  Lords  to  turn  us  out.  If  we  stand  the  shock,  we 
shall  be  firmer  than  ever.  I  am  not  without  anxiety  as  to  the 

*  The  night  of  the  first  reading  of  the  India  Bill. 


1832-'34.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  269 

result :  yet  I  believe  that  Lord  Grey  understands  the  position 
in  which  he  is  placed ;  and  as  for  the  king,  he  will  not  forget 
his  last  blunder,*  I  will  answer  for  it,  even  if  he  should  live 
to  the  age  of  his  father. 

But  why  plague  ourselves  about  politics  when  we  have  so 
much  pleasanter  things  to  talk  of  ?  "  The  Parson's  Daughter :" 
don't  you  like  "The  Parson's  Daughter?"  What  a  wretch 
Harbottle  was !  And  Lady  Frances,  what  a  sad  worldly  wom- 
an !  But  Mrs.  Harbottle,  dear  suffering  angel !  And  Emma 
Lovel,  all  excellence !  Dr.  MacGopus  you  doubtless  like ; 
but  you  probably  do  not  admire  the  Duchess  and  Lady  Cath- 
erine. There  is  a  regular  coze  over  a  novel  for  you !  But,  if 
you  will  have  my  opinion,  I  think  it  Theodore  Hook's  worst 
performance ;  far  inferior  to  "  The  Surgeon's  Daughter ;"  a 
set  of  fools  making  themselves  miserable  by  their  own  non- 
sensical fancies  and  suspicions.  Let  me  hear  your  opinion; 
for  I  will  be  sworn  that, 

In  spite  of  all  the  serious  world, 
Of  all  the  thumbs  that  ever  twirled, 
Of  every  broadbrim-shaded  brow, 
Of  every  tongue  that  e'er  said  "  thou," 
You  still  read  books  in  marble  covers 
About  smart  girls  and  dapper  lovers. 

But  what  folly  I  have  been  scrawling !    I  must  go  to  work. 

I  can  not  all  day 

Be  neglecting  Madras, 
And  slighting  Bombay 

For  the  sake  of  a  lass. 

Kindest  love  to  Edward,  and  to  the  woman  who  owns  him. 
Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

London,  June  17th,  1833. 

DEAE  HANNAH, — All  is  still  anxiety  here.  Whether  the 
House  of  Lords  will  throw  out  the  Irish  Church  Bill,  whether 

*  This  "  last  blunder  "  was  the  refusal  of  the  king  to  stand  by  his  min- 
isters in  May,  1832.  Macaulay  proved  a  bad  prophet ;  for  after  an  inter- 
val of  only  three  years,  William  the  Fourth  repeated  his  blunder  in  an  ag- 
gravated form. 


2 TO  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.V. 

the  king  will  consent  to  create  new  peers,  whether  the  Tories 
will  venture  to  form  a  ministry,  are  matters  about  which  we 
are  all  in  complete  doubt.  If  the  ministry  should  really  be 
changed,  Parliament  will,  I  feel  quite  sure,  be  dissolved. 
Whether  I  shall  have  a  seat  in  the  next  Parliament  I  neither 
know  nor  care.  I  shall  regret  nothing  for  myself  but  our 
Scotch  tour.  For  the  public  I  shall,  if  this  Parliament  be  dis- 
solved, entertain  scarcely  any  hopes.  I  see  nothing  before  us 
but  a  frantic  conflict  between  extreme  opinions ;  a  short  peri- 
od of  oppression ;  then  a  convulsive  reaction ;  and  then  a  tre- 
mendous crash  of  the  Funds,  the  Church,  the  Peerage,  and  the 
Throne.  It  is  enough  to  make  the  most  strenuous  royalist 
lean  a  little  to  republicanism  to  think  that  the  whole  question 
between  safety  and  general  destruction  may  probably,  at  this 
most  fearful  conjuncture,  depend  on  a  single  man  whom  the 
accident  of  his  birth  has  placed  in  a  situation  to  which  cer- 
tainly his  own  virtues  or  abilities  would  never  have  raised 
him. 

The  question  must  come  to  a  decision,  I  think,  within  the 
fortnight.  In  the  mean  time  the  funds  are  going  down,  the 
newspapers  are  storming,  and  the  faces  of  men  on  both  sides 
are  growing  day  by  day  more  gloomy  and  anxious.  Even 
during  the  most  violent  part  of  the  contest  for  the  Reform 
Bill,  I  do  not  remember  to  have  seen  so  much  agitation  in  the 
political  circles.  I  have  some  odd  anecdotes  for  you,  which  I 
will  tell  you  when  we  meet.  If  the  Parliament  should  be 
dissolved,  the  West  Indian  and  East  Indian  bills  are  of  course 
dropped.  What  is  to  become  of  the  slaves  ?  What  is  to  be- 
come of  the  tea-trade  ?  Will  the  negroes,  after  receiving  the 
resolutions  of  the  House  of  Commons  promising  them  lib- 
erty, submit  to  the  cart-whip  ?  Will  our  merchants  consent 
to  have  the  trade  with  China,  which  has  just  been  offered  to 
them,  snatched  away  ?  The  Bank  charter,  too,  is  suspended. 
But  that  is  comparatively  a  trifle.  After  all,  what  is  it  to 
me  who  is  in  or  out,  or  whether  those  fools  of  Lords  are  re- 
solved to  perish,  and  drag  the  king  to  perish  with  them,  in  the 
ruin  which  they  have  themselves  made  ?  I  begin  to  wonder 
what  the  fascination  is  which  attracts  men,  who  could  sit  over 


1832-'34.]  LOKD  MACAULAY.  271 

their  tea  and  their  books  in  their  own  cool,  quiet  room,  to 
breathe  bad  air,  hear  bad  speeches,  lounge  up  and  down  the 
long  gallery,  and  doze  uneasily  on  the  green  benches  till  three 
in  the  morning.  Thank  God,  these  luxuries  are  not  necessary 
to  me.  My  pen  is  sufficient  for  my  support,  and  my  sister's 
company  is  sufficient  for  my  happiness.  Only  let  me  see  her 
well  and  cheerful ;  and  let  offices  in  Government,  and  seats  in 
Parliament,  go  to  those  who  care  for  them.  If  I  were  to 
leave  public  life  to-morrow,  I  declare  that,  except  for  the  vex- 
ation which  it  might  give  you  and  one  or  two  others,  the 
event  would  not  be  in  the  slightest  degree  painful  to  me.  As 
you  boast  of  having  a  greater  insight  into  character  than  I  al- 
low to  you,  let  me  know  how  you  explain  this  philosophical 
disposition  of  mine,  and  how  you  reconcile  it  with  my  ambi- 
tious inclinations.  That  is  a  problem  for  a  young  lady  who 
professes  knowledge  of  human  nature. 

Did  I  tell  you  that  I  dined  at  the  Duchess  of  Kent's,  and 
sat  next  that  loveliest  of  women,  Mrs.  Littleton  ?  Her  hus- 
band, our  new  Secretary  for  Ireland,  told  me  this  evening  that 
Lord  "Wellesley,  who  sat  near  us  at  the  duchess's,  asked  Mrs. 
Littleton  afterward  who  it  was  that  was  talking  to  her.  "  Mr. 
Macaulay."  "  Oh !"  said  the  marquess,  "  I  am  very  sorry  I 
did  not  know  it.  I  have  a  most  particular  desire  to  be  ac- 
quainted with  that  man."  Accordingly,  Littleton  has  engaged 
me  to  dine  with  him,  in  order  to  introduce  me  to  the  mar- 
quess. I  am  particularly  curious,  and  always  was,  to  know 
him.  He  has  made  a  great  and  splendid  figure  in  history, 
and  his  weaknesses,  though  they  make  his  character  less  wor- 
thy of  respect,  make  it  more  interesting  as  a  study.  Such  a 
blooming  old  swain  I  never  saw ;  hair  combed  with  exquisite 
nicety,  a  waistcoat  of  driven  snow,  and  a  star  and  garter  put 
on  with  rare  skill. 

To-day  we  took  up  oar  resolutions  about  India  to  the 
House  of  Lords.  The  two  Houses  had  a  conference  on  the 
subject  in  an  old  Gothic  room  called  the  Painted  Chamber. 
The  painting  consists  in  a  mildewed  daub  of  a  woman  in  the 
niche  of  one  of  the  windows.  The  Lords  sat  in  little  cocked 
hats  along  a  table ;  and  we  stood  uncovered  on  the  other  side, 


272  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.V. 

and  delivered  in  our  resolutions.  I  thought  that  before  long 
it  may  be  our  turn  to  sit,  and  theirs  to  stand. 

Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M- 

London,  June  21st,  1833. 

PEAR  HANNAH, — I  can  not  tell  you  how  delighted  I  was 
to  learn  from  Fanny  this  morning  that  Margaret  pronounces 
you  to  be  as  well  as  she  could  wish  you  to  be.  Only  continue 
so,  and  all  the  changes  of  public  life  will  be  as  indifferent  to 
me  as  to  Horatio.  If  I  am  only  spared  the  misery  of  seeing 
you  suffer,  I  shall  be  found 

A  man  that  fortune's  buffets  and  rewards 
Has  ta'en  \vith  equal  thanks. 

Whether  we  are  to  have  buffets  or  rewards  is  known  only  to 
Heaven  and  to  the  Peers.  I  think  that  their  lordships  are 
rather  cowed.  Indeed,  if  they  venture  on  the  course  on  which 
they  lately  seemed  bent,  I  would  not  give  sixpence  for  a  cor- 
onet or  a  penny  for  a  mitre. 

I  shall  not  read  "  The  Repealers ;"  and  I  think  it  very  im- 
pudent in  you  to  make  such  a  request.  Have  I  nothing  to 
do  but  to  be  your  novel-taster  ?  It  is  rather  your  duty  to  be 
mine.  What  else  have  you  to  do  ?  I  have  read  only  one  nov- 
el within  the  last  week,  and  a  most  precious  one  it  was :  "  The 
Invisible  Gentleman."  Have  you  ever  read  it  ?  But  I  need 
not  ask.  No  doubt  it  has  formed  part  of  your  Sunday  stud- 
ies. A  wretched,  trumpery  imitation  of  Godwin's  worst  man- 
ner. What  a  number  of  stories  I  shall  have  to  tell  you  when  we 
meet ! — which  will  be,  as  nearly  as  I  can  guess,  about  the  10th 
or  12th  of  August.  I  shall  be  as  rich  as  a  Jew  by  that  tune. 

Next  Wednesday  will  be  quarter-day ; 

And  then,  if  I'm  alive, 
Of  sterling  pounds  I  shall  receive 

Three  hundred  seventy-five. 

Already  I  possess  in  cash 

Two  hundred  twenty-four, 
Besides  what  I  have  lent  to  John, 

Which  makes  up  twenty  more. 


LORD  MACAULAY.  273 

Also  the  man  who  editeth 

The  "Yellow  and  the  Blue" 
Doth  owe  me  ninety  pounds  at  least, 

All  for  my  last  review. 

So,  if  my  debtors  pay  their  debts, 

You'll  find,  dear  sister  mine, 
That  all  my  wealth  together  makes 

Seven  hundred  pounds  and  nine. 

Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

The  rhymes  in  which  Macaulay  unfolds  his  little  budget 
derive  a  certain  dignity  and  meaning  from  the  events  of  the 
ensuing  weeks.  The  unparalleled  labors  of  the  antislavery 
leaders  were  at  length  approaching  a  successful  issue,  and 
Lord  Grey's  Cabinet  had  declared  itself  responsible  for  the 
emancipation  of  the  West  Indian  negroes.  But  it  was  already 
beginning  to  be  known  that  the  ministerial  scheme,  in  its 
original  shape,  was  not  such  as  would  satisfy  even  the  more 
moderate  Abolitionists.  Its  most  objectionable  feature  was 
shadowed  forth  in  the  third  of  the  resolutions  with  which 
Mr.  Stanley,  who  had  the  question  in  charge,  prefaced  the  in- 
troduction of  his  bill :  "  That  all  persons,  now  slaves,  be  en- 
titled to  be  registered  as  apprenticed  laborers,  and  to  acquire 
thereby  all  the  rights  and  privileges  of  freemen,  subject  to  the 
restriction  of  laboring,  for  a  time  to  be  fixed  by  Parliament, 
for  their  present  owners."  It  was  understood  that  twelve 
years  would  be  proposed  as  the  period  of  apprenticeship ;  al- 
though no  trace  of  this  intention  could  be  detected  in  the 
wording  of  the  resolution.  Macaulay,  who  thought  twelve 
years  far  too  long,  felt  himself  justified  in  supporting  the 
Government  during  the  preliminary  stages ;  but  he  took  oc- 
casion to  make  some  remarks  indicating  that  circumstances 
might  occur  which  would  oblige  him  to  resign  office  and  adopt 
a  line  of  his  own. 

As  time  went  on,  it  became  evident  that  his  firmness  would 
be  put  to  the  test ;  and  a  severe  test  it  was.  A  rising  states- 
man, whose  prospects  would  be  irremediably  injured  by  ab- 
ruptly quitting  a  government  that  seemed  likely  to  be  in 

YOL.  I.— 18 


274:  LIFE  A]ST)  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  v. 

power  for  the  next  quarter  of  a  century ;  a  zealous  Whig,  who 
shrunk  from  the  very  appearance  of  disaffection  to  his  party ; 
a  man  of  sense,  with  no  ambition  to  be  called  Quixotic ;  a 
member  for  a  large  constituency,  possessed  of  only  seven  hun- 
dred pounds  in  the  world  when  his  purse  was  at  its  fullest ; 
above  all,  an  affectionate  son  and  brother,  now,  more  than 
ever,  the  mam  hope  and  reliance  of  those  whom  he  held  most 
dear — it  may  well  be  believed  that  he  was  not  in  a  hurry  to 
act  the  martyr.  His  father's  affairs  were  worse  than  bad. 
The  African  firm,  without  having  been  reduced  to  declare  it- 
self bankrupt,  had  ceased  to  exist  as  a  house  of  business ;  or 
existed  only  so  far  that  for  some  years  to  come  every  penny 
that  Macaulay  earned,  beyond  what  the  necessities  of  life  de- 
manded, was  scrupulously  devoted  to  paying,  and  at  length  to 
paying  off,  his  father's  creditors :  a  dutiful  enterprise  in  which 
he  was  assisted  by  his  brother  Henry,*  a  young  man  of  high 
spirit  and  excellent  abilities,  who  had  recently  been  appointed 
one  of  the  commissioners  of  arbitration  in  the  prize  courts  at 
Sierra  Leone. 

The  pressure  of  pecuniary  trouble  was  now  beginning  to 
make  itself  felt  even  by  the  younger  members  of  the  family. 
About  this  time,  or  perhaps  a  little  earlier,  Hannah  Macaulay 
writes  thus  to  one  of  her  cousins :  "  You  say  nothing  about 
coming  to  us.  You  must  come  in  good  health  and  spirits. 
Our  trials  ought  not  greatly  to  depress  us ;  for,  after  all,  all 
we  want  is  money,  the  easiest  want  to  bear;  and,  when  we 
have  so  many  mercies — friends  who  love  us  and  whom  we 
love ;  no  bereavements ;  and,  above  all  (if  it  be  not  our  own 
fault),  a  hope  full  of  immortality — let  us  not  be  so  ungrateful 
as  to  repine  because  we  are  without  what  in  itself  can  not 
make  our  happiness." 

Macaulay's  colleagues,  who,  without  knowing  his  whole  sto- 
ry, knew  enough  to  be  aware  that  he  could  ill  afford  to  give 
up  office,  were  earnest  in  their  remonstrances ;  but  he  answer- 
ed shortly,  and  almost  roughly :  "  I  can  not  go  counter  to  my 

*  Henry  Macaulay  married,  in  1841,  a  daughter  of  his  brother's  old  polit- 
ical ally,  Lord  Denman.  He  died  at  Boa  Vista  in  1846. 


1832-'34.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  275 

father.  He  has  devoted  his  whole  life  to  the  question,  and 
I  can  not  grieve  hiui  by  giving  way  when  he  wishes  me  to 
stand  firm."  During  the  crisis  of  the  West  India  Bill,  Zach- 
ary  Macaulay  and  his  son  were  in  constant  correspondence. 
There  is  something  touching  in  the  picture  which  these  letters 
present  of  the  older  man  (whose  years  were  coming  to  a  close 
in  poverty,  which  was  the  consequence  of  his  having  always 
lived  too  much  for  others),  discussing  quietly  and  gravely 
how,  and  when,  the  younger  was  to  take  a  step  that  in  the 
opinion  of  them  both  would  be  fatal  to  his  career:  and  this 
with  so  little  consciousness  that  there  was  any  thing  heroic  in 
the  course  which  they  were  pursuing,  that  it  appears  never  to 
have  occurred  to  either  of  them  that  any  other  line  of  con- 
duct could  possibly  be  adopted. 

London,  July  22d,  1833. 

MY  DEAR  FATHEK, — We  are  still  veiy  anxious  here.  The 
Lords,  though  they  have  passed  the  Irish  Church  Bill  through 
its  first  stage,  will  very  probably  mutilate  it  in  committee.  It 
will  then  be  for  the  ministers  to  decide  whether  they  can  with 
honor  keep  their  places.  I  believe  that  they  will  resign  if  any 
material  alteration  should  be  made ;  and  then  every  thing  is 
confusion. 

These  circumstances  render  it  very  difficult  for  me  to  shape 
my  course  right  with  respect  to  the  West  India  Bill,  the  sec- 
ond reading  of  which  stands  for  this  evening.  I  am  fully 
resolved  to  oppose  several  of  the  clauses.  But  to  declare  my 
intention  publicly,  at  a  moment  when  the  Government  is  in 
danger,  would  have  the  appearance  of  ratting.  I  must  be 
guided  by  circumstances ;  but  my  present  intention  is  to  say 
nothing  on  the  second  reading.  By  the  time  that  we  get 
into  committee  the  political  crisis  will,  I  hope,  be  over ;  the 
fate  of  the  Church  Bill  will  be  decided  one  way  or  the  other ; 
and  I  shall  be  able  to  take  my  own  course  on  the  slavery  ques- 
tion without  exposing  myself  to  the  charge  of  deserting  my 
friends  in  a  moment  of  peril.  Ever  yours,  affectionately, 

T.  B.  MACAULAY. 

Having  made  up  his  mind  as  to  what  he  should  do,  Mac- 


276  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  v. 

aulay  set  about  it  with  a8  good  a  grace  as  is  compatible  with 
the  most  trying  position  in  which  a  man,  and  especially  a 
young  man,  can  find  himself. .  Carefully  avoiding  the  atti- 
tude of  one  who  bargains  or  threatens,  he  had  given  timely 
notice  in  the  proper  quarter  of  his  intentions  and  his  views. 
At  length  the  conjuncture  arrived  when  decisive  action  could 
no  longer  be  postponed.  On  the  24th  of  July  Mr.  Thomas 
Fowell  Buxton  moved  an  amendment  in  committee,  limiting 
the  apprenticeship  to  the  shortest  period  necessary  for  estab- 
lishing the  system  of  free  labor.  Macaulay,  whose  resignation 
was  already  in  Lord  Althorp's  hands,  made  a  speech  which 
produced  all  the  more  effect  as  being  inornate,  and,  at  times, 
almost  awkward.  Even  if  deeper  feelings  had  not  restrained 
the  range  of  his  fancy  and  the  flow  of  his  rhetoric,  his  judg- 
ment would  have  told  him  that  it  was  not  the  moment  for  an 
oratorical  display.  He  began  by  entreating  the  House  to  ex- 
tend to  him  that  indulgence  which  it  had  accorded  on  occa- 
sions when  he  had  addressed  it  "with  more  confidence  and 
with  less  harassed  feelings."  He  then,  at  some  length,  ex- 
posed the  effects  of  the  Government  proposal.  "  In  free  coun- 
tries the  master  has  a  choice  of  laborers,  and  the  laborer  has  a 
choice  of  masters ;  but  in  slavery  it  is  always  necessary  to  give 
despotic  power  to  the  master.  This  bill  leaves  it  to  the  mag- 
istrate to  keep  peace  between  master  and  slave.  Every  time 
that  the  slave  takes  twenty  minutes  to  do  that  which  the  mas- 
ter thinks  he  should  do  in  fifteen,  recourse  must  be  had  to  the 
magistrate.  Society  would  day  and  night  be  in  a  constant 
state  of  litigation,  and  all  differences  and  difficulties  must  be 
solved  by  a  judicial  interference." 

He  did  not  share  in  Mr.  Buxton's  apprehension  of  gross 
cruelty  as  a  result  of  the  apprenticeship.  "  The  magistrate 
would  be  accountable  to  the  Colonial  Office,  and  the  Colonial 
Office  to  the  House  of  Commons,  in  which  every  lash  which 
was  inflicted  under  magisterial  authority  would  be  told  and 
counted.  My  apprehension  is  that  the  result  of  continuing 
for  twelve  years  this  dead  slavery — this  state  of  society  desti- 
tute of  any  vital  principle — will  be  that  the  whole  negro  pop- 
ulation will  sink  into  weak  and  drawling  inefficacy,  and  will 


1832-'34.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  277 

be  much  less  fit  for  liberty  at  the  end  of  the  period  than  at 
the  commencement.  My  hope  is  that  the  system  will  die  a 
natural  death ;  that  the  experience  of  a  few  months  will  so 
establish  its  utter  inefficiency  as  to  induce  the  planters  to 
abandon  it,  and  to  substitute  for  it  a  state  of  freedom.  I  have 
voted,"  he  said, "  for  the  second  reading,  and  I  shall  vote  for 
the  third  reading ;  but,  while  the  bill  is  in  committee,  I  shall 
join  with  other  honorable  gentlemen  in  doing  all  that  is  pos- 
sible to  amend  it." 

Such  a  declaration,  coming  from  the  mouth  of  a  member 
of  the  Government,  gave  life  to  the  debate,  and  secured  to 
Mr.  Buxton  an  excellent  division,  which  under  the  circum- 
stances was  equivalent  to  a  victory.  The  next  day  Mr.  Stan- 
ley rose;  adverted  shortly  to  the  position  in  which  the  min- 
isters stood ;  and  announced  that  the  term  of  apprenticeship 
would  be  reduced  from  twelve  years  to  seven.  Mr.  Buxton, 
who,  with  equal  energy  and  wisdom,  had  throughout  the  pro- 
ceedings acted  as  leader  of  the  antislavery  party  in  the  House 
of  Commons,  advised  his  friends  to  make  the  best  of  the  con- 
cession ;  and  his  counsel  was  followed  by  all  those  abolition- 
ists who  were  thinking  more  of  their  cause  than  of  themselves. 
It  is  worthy  of  remark  that  Macaulay's  prophecy  came  true, 
though  not  at  so  early  a  date  as  he  ventured  to  anticipate. 
Four  years  of  the  provisional  system  brought  all  parties  to 
acquiesce  in  the  premature  termination  of  a  state  of  things 
which  denied  to  the  negro  the  blessings  of  freedom,  and  to 
the  planter  the  profits  of  slavery. 

"  The  papers,"  Macaulay  writes  to  his  father,  "  will  have 
told  you  all  that  has  happened,  as  far  as  it  is  known  to  the 
public.  The  secret  history  you  will  have  heard  from  Buxton. 
As  to  myself,  Lord  Althorp  told  me  yesterday  night  that  the 
Cabinet  had  determined  not  to  accept  my  resignation.  I  have 
therefore  the  singular  good  luck  of  having  saved  both  my  hon- 
or and  my  place,  and  of  having  given  no  just  ground  of  offense 
either  to  the  Abolitionists  or  to  my  party  friends.  I  have  more 
reason  than  ever  to  say  that  honesty  is  the  best  policy." 

This  letter  is  dated  the  27th  of  July.  On  that  day  week- 
Wilberf  orce  was  carried  to  his  grave  in  Westminster  Abbey. 


2T3  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  v. 

"  We  laid  him,"  writes  Macaulay,  "  side  by  side  with  Canning, 
at  the  feet  of  Pitt,  and  within  two  steps  of  Fox  and  Grattan." 
He  died  with  the  Promised  Land  full  in  view.  Before  the 
end  of  August  Parliament  abolished  slavery,  and  the  last 
touch  was  put  to  the  work  that  had  consumed  so  many  pure 
and  noble  lives.  In  a  letter  of  congratulation  to  Zachary 
Macaulay,  Mr.  Buxton  says :  "  Surely  you  have  reason  to  re- 
joice. My  sober  and  deliberate  opinion  is  that  you  have  done 
more  toward  this  consummation  than  any  other  man.  For 
myself,  I  take  pleasure  in  acknowledging  that  you  have  been 
my  tutor  all  the  way  through,  and  that  I  could  have  done 
nothing  without  you."  Such  was  the  spirit  of  these  men, 
who,  while  the  struggle  lasted,  were  prodigal  of  health  and 
ease ;  but  who,  in  the  day  of  triumph,  disclaimed,  each  for 
himself,  even  that  part  of  the  merit  which  their  religion  al- 
lowed them  to  ascribe  to  human  effort  and  self-sacrifice. 

London,  July  llth,  1833. 

DEAR  HANNAH, — I  have  been  so  completely  overwhelmed 
with  business  for  some  days  that  I  have  not  been  able  to  find 
time  for  writing  a  line.  Yesterday  night  we  read  the  India 
Bill  a  second  time.  It  was  a  Wednesday,  and  the  reporters 
gave  hardly  any  account  of  what  passed.  They  always  re- 
sent being  forced  to  attend  on  that  day,  which  is  their  holi- 
day. I  made  the  best  speech,  by  general  agreement,  and  in 
my  own  opinion,  that  I  ever  made  in  my  life.  I  was  an  hour 
and  three-quarters  up;  and  such  compliments  as  I  had  from 
Lord  Althorp,  Lord  Palmerston,  Lord  John  Russell,  Wynne, 
O'Connell,  Grant,  the  Speaker,  and  twenty  other  people,  you 
never  heard.  As  there  is  no  report  of  the  speech,  I  have  been 
persuaded,  rather  against  my  will,  to  correct  it  for  publication. 
I  will  tell  you  one  compliment  that  was  paid  me,  and  which 
delighted  me  more  than  any  other.  An  old  member  said  to 
me,  "  Sir,  having  heard  that  speech  may  console  the  young 
people  for  never  having  heard  Mr.  Burke."* 

*  A  Tory  member  said  that  Macaulay  resembled  both  the  Burkes  :  that 
he  was  like  the  first  from  his  eloquence,  and  like  the  second  from  his  stop- 
plug  other  people's  mouths. 


1832-'34.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  279 

The  Slavery  Bill  is  miserably  bad.  I  am  fully  resolved  not 
to  be  dragged  through  the  mire,  but  to  oppose,  by  speaking  and 
voting,  the  clauses  which  I  think  objectionable.  I  have  told 
Lord  Althorp  this,  and  have  again  tendered  my  resignation. 
He  hinted  that  he  thought  that  the  Government  would  leave 
me  at  liberty  to  take  my  own  line,  but  that  he  must  consult 
his  colleagues.  I  told  him  that  I  asked  for  no  favor;  that  I 
knew  what  inconvenience  would  result  if  official  men  were 
allowed  to  dissent  from  ministerial  measures,  and  yet  to  keep 
their  places ;  and  that  I  should  not  think  myself  in  the  small- 
est degree  ill-used  if  the  Cabinet  accepted  my  resignation. 
This  is  the  present  posture  of  affairs.  In  the  mean  time  the 
two  Houses  are  at  daggers  drawn.  Whether  the  Government 
will  last  to  the  end  of  the  session  I  neither  know  nor  care.  I 
am  sick  of  boards,  and  of  the  House  of  Commons ;  and  pine 
for  a  few  quiet  days,  a  cool  country  breeze,  and  a  little  chat- 
ting with  my  dear  sister.  Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

To  Hannah  M.  Macaulay. 

London,  July  19th,  1833. 

MY  DEAR  SISTER, — I  snatch  a  few  minutes  to  write  a  single 
line  to  you.  We  went  into  committee  on  the  India  Bill  at 
twelve  this  morning,  sat  till  three,  and  are  just  set  at  liberty 
for  two  hours.  At  five  we  recommence,  and  shall  be  at  work 
till  midnight.  In  the  interval  between  three  and  five  I  have 
to  dispatch  the  current  business  of  the  office,  which,  at  present, 
is  fortunately  not  heavy ;  to  eat  my  dinner,  which  I  shall  do 
at  Grant's ;  and  to  write  a  short  scrawl  to  my  little  sister. 

My  work,  though  laborious,  has  been  highly  satisfactory. 
No  bill,  I  believe,  of  such  importance — certainly  no  important 
bill  in  my  time — has  been  received  with  such  general  appro- 
bation. The  very  cause  of  the  negligence  of  the  reporters, 
and  of  the  thinness  of  the  House,  is  that  we  have  framed  our 
measure  so  carefully  as  to  give  little  occasion  for  debate.  Lit- 
tleton, Denison,  and.  many  other  members,  assure  me  that  they 
never  remember  to  have  seen  a  bill  better  drawn  or  better 
conducted. 

On  Monday  night,  I  hope,  my  work  will  be  over.     Our 


280  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  v. 

Bill  will  have  been  discussed,  I  trust,  for  the  last  time  in  the 
House  of  Commons;  and,  in  all  probability,  I  shall  within 
forty-eight  hours  after  that  time  be  out  of  office.  I  am  fully 
determined  not  to  give  way  about  the  West  India  Bill ;  and  I 
can.  hardly  expect — I  am  sure  I  do  not  wish — that  the  minis- 
ters should  suffer  me  to  keep  my  place  and  oppose  their  meas- 
ure. Whatever  may  befall  me  or  my  party,  I  am  much  more 
desirous  to  come  to  an  end  of  this  interminable  session  than 
to  stay  either  in  office  or  in  Parliament.  The  Tories  are  quite 
welcome  to  take  every  thing,  if  they  will  only  leave  me  my 
pen  and  my  books,  a  warm  fireside,  and  you  chattering  beside 
it.  This  sort  of  philosophy,  an  odd  kind  of  cross  between 
Stoicism  and  Epicureanism,  I  have  learned,  where  most  peo- 
ple unlearn  all  their  philosophy — in  crowded  senates  and  fine 
drawing-rooms. 

But  time  flies,  and  Grant's  dinner  will  be  waiting.  He 
keeps  open  house  for  us  during  this  fight.  Ever  yours, 

T.  B.  M. 
To  Hannah  M.  Macaulay. 

London,  July  24th,  1833. 

MY  DEAE  SISTER, — You  will  have  seen  by  the  papers  that 
the  West  India  debate  on  Monday  night  went  off  very  quietly 
in  little  more  than  a  hour.  To-night  we  expect  the  great 
struggle,  and  I  fear  that,  much  against  my  inclination,  I  must 
bear  a  part  in  it.  My  resignation  is  in  Lord  Althorp's  hands. 
He  assures  me  that  he  will  do  his  utmost  to  obtain  for  me  lib- 
erty to  act  as  I  like  on  this  question;  but  Lord  Grey  and 
Stanley  &TQ  to  be  consulted,  and  I  think  it  very  improbable 
that  they  will  consent  to  allow  me  so  extraordinary  a  privi- 
lege. I  know  that,  if  I  were  minister,  I  would  not  allow  such 
latitude  to  any  man  in  office;  and  so  I  told  Lord  Althorp. 
He  answered  in  the  kindest  and  most  flattering  manner ;  told 
me  that  in  office  I  had  surpassed  their  expectations,  and  that, 
much  as  they  wished  to  bring  me  in  last  year,  they  wished 
much  more  to  keep  me  in  now.  I  told  him,  in  reply,  that  the 
matter  was  one  for  the  ministers  to  settle  purely  with  a  view 
to  their  own  interest ;  that  I  asked  for  no  indulgence  ;  that  I 
could  make  no  terms ;  and  that  what  I  would  not  do  to  serve 


1832-'34.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  281 

them,  I  certainly  would  not  do  to  keep  my  place.  Thus  the 
matter  stands.  It  will  probably  be  finally  settled  within  a  few 
hours. 

This  detestable  session  goes  on  lengthening  and  lengthen- 
ing, like  a  human  hair  in  one's  mouth.  (Do  you  know  that 
delicious  sensation  ?)  Last  month  we  expected  to  have  been 
up  before  the  middle  of  August.  Now  we  should  be  glad  to 
be  quite  certain  of  being  in  the  country  by  the  1st  of  Sep- 
tember. One  comfort  I  shall  have  in  being  turned  out :  I  will 
not  stay  a  day  in  London  after  the  West  India  Bill  is  through 
committee;  which  I  hope  it  will  be  before  the  end  of  next 
week. 

The  new  Edinburgh  Review  is  not  much  amiss ;  but  I  quite 
agree  with  the  publishers,  the  editor,  and  the  reading  public 
generally,  that  the  number  would  have  been  much  the  better 
for  an  article  of  thirty  or  forty  pages  from  the  pen  of  a  gen- 
tleman who  shall  be  nameless.  Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

To  Hannah  M.  Macaulay. 

London,  July  25th,  1833. 

MY  DEAE  SISTER, — The  plot  is  thickening.  Yesterday  Bux- 
ton  moved  an  instruction  to  the  Committee  on  the  Slavery 
Bill,  which  the  Government  opposed,  and  which  I  supported. 
It  was  extremely  painful  to  me  to  speak  against  all  my  polit- 
ical friends — so  painful  that  at  times  I  could  hardly  go  on.  I 
treated  them  as  mildly  as  I  could,  and  they  all  tell  me  that  I 
performed  my  difficult  task  not  ungracefully.  "We  divided  at 
two  this  morning,  and  were  151  to  158.  The  ministers  found 
that  if  they  persisted  they  would  infallibly  be  beaten.  Ac- 
cordingly they  came  down  to  the  House  at  twelve  this  day, 
and  agreed  to  reduce  the  apprenticeship  to  seven  years  for  the 
agricultural  laborers,  and  to  five  years  for  the  skilled  laborers. 
What  other  people  may  do  I  can  not  tell ;  but  I  am  inclined 
to  be  satisfied  with  this  concession ;  particularly  as  I  believe 
that  if  we  press  the  thing  further  they  will  resign,  and  we 
shall  have  no  bill  at  all,  but  instead  of  it  a  Tory  ministry  and 
a  dissolution.  Some  people  flatter  me  with  the  assurance  that 
our  large  minority,  and  the  consequent  change  in  the  bill,  have 


282  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.V. 

been  owing  to  me.  If  this  be  so,  I  have  done  one  useful  act, 
at  least,  in  my  life. 

I  shall  now  certainly  remain  in  office ;  and  if,  as  I  expect, 
the  Irish  Church  Bill  passes  the  Lords,  I  may  consider  myself 
as  safe  till  the  next  session ;  when  Heaven  knows  what  may 
happen.  It  is  still  quite  uncertain  when  we  may  rise.  I  pine 
for  rest,  air,  and  a  taste  of  family  life,  .more  than  I  can  ex- 
press. I  see  nothing  but  politicians,  and  talk  about  nothing 
but  politics. 

I  have  not  read  "  Village  Belles."  Tell  me,  as  soon  as  you 
can  get  it,  whether  it  is  worth  reading.  As  John  Thorpe* 
says :  "  Novels !  Oh,  Lord !  I  never  read  novels.  I  have 
something  else  to  do."  Farewell.  T.  B.  M. 

To  Hannah  M.  Macavlay. 

London,  July  27th,  1833. 

MY  DEAR  SISTEE, — Here  I  am,  safe  and  well,  at  the  end  of 
one  of  the  most  stormy  weeks  that  the  oldest  man  remem- 
bers in  Parliamentary  affairs.  I  have  resigned  my  office,  and 
my  resignation  has  been  refused.  I  have  spoken  and  voted 
against  the  ministry  under  which  I  hold  my  place.  The  min- 
istry has  been  so  hard  run  in  the  Commons  as  to  be  forced  to 
modify  its  plan ;  and  has  received  a  defeat  in  the  Lords  ;f  a 
slight  one, 'to  be  sure,  and  on  a  slight  matter,  yet  such  that  I, 
and  many  others,  fully  believed  twenty-four  hours  ago  that 
they  would  have  resigned.  In  fact,  some  of  the  Cabinet — 
Grant  among  the  rest,  to  my  certain  knowledge — were  for  re- 
signing. At  last  Saturday  has  arrived.  The  ministry  is  as 
strong  as  ever.  I  am  as  good  friends  with  the  ministers  as 
ever.  The  East  India  Bill  is  carried  through  our  House. 
The  West  India  Bill  is  so  far  modified  that,  I  believe,  it  will 
be  carried.  The  Irish  Church  Bill  has  got  through  the  com- 
mittee in  the  Lords;  and  we  are  all  beginning  to  look  for- 
ward to  a  prorogation  in  about  three  weeks. 

*  The  young  Oxford  man  in  Northanger  Abbey. 

t  On  the  25th  of  July  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  carried  an  amend- 
ment on  the  Irish  Church  Bill,  against  the  Government,  by  84  votes  to  82. 


1832-'34.]  LOKD  MACAULAY.  283 

To-day  I  went  to  Haydon's  to  be  painted  into  his  great 
picture  of  "  The  Reform  Banquet."  Ellis  was  with  me,  and  de- 
clares that  Haydon  has  touched  me  off  to  a  nicety.  I  am  sick 
of  pictures  of  my  own  face.  I  have  seen  within  the  last  few 
days  one  drawing  of  it,  one  engraving,  and  three  paintings. 
They  all  make  me  a  very  handsome  fellow.  Haydon  pro- 
nounces my  profile  a  gem  of  art,  perfectly  antique ;  and,  what 
is  worth  the  praise  of  ten  Haydons,  I  was  told  yesterday  that 
Mrs.  Littleton,  the  handsomest  woman  in  London,  had  paid 
me  exactly  the  same  compliment.  She  pronounced  Mr.  Mac- 
aulay's  profile  to  be  a  study  for  an  artist.  I  have  bought  a 
new  looking-glass  and  razor-case  on  the  strength  of  these  com- 
pliments, and  am  meditating  on  the  expediency  of  having  my 
hair  cut  in  the  Burlington  Arcade,  rather  than  in  Lamb's,  Con- 
duit Street.  As  Richard  says, 

Since  I  am  crept  in  favor  with  myself, 
I  will  maintain  it  with  some  little  cost. 

I  begin,  like  Sir  Walter  Elliot,*  to  rate  all  my  acquaintance 
according  to  their  beauty.  But  what  nonsense  I  write,  and  in 
times  that  make  merry  men  look  grave !  Ever  yours, 

T.  B.  M. 
To  Hannah  M.  Macaulay. 

London,  July  29th,  1833. 

MY  DEAK  SISTER, — I  dined  last  night  at  Holland  House. 
There  was  a  very  pleasant  party.  My  lady  was  courteous, 
and  my  lord  extravagantly  entertaining :  telling  some  capital 
stories  about  old  Bishop  Horsley,  which  were  set  off  with  some 
of  the  drollest  mimicry  that  I  ever  saw.  Among  many  oth- 
ers, there  were  Sir  James  Graham ;  and  Dr.  Holland,  who  is 
a  good  scholar  as  well  as  a  good  physician ;  and  "Wilkie,  who 
is  a  modest,  pleasing  companion,  as  well  as  an  excellent  artist. 

For  ladies,  we  had  her  Grace  of ;  and  her  daughter,  Lady 

,  a  fine,  buxom,  sonsy  lass,  with  more  color  than,  I  am  sor- 
ry to  say,  is  often  seen  among  fine  ladies.  So  our  dinner  and 
our  soiree  were  very  agreeable. 

*  The  Baronet  in  "  Persuasion." 


284  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  v. 

We  narrowly  escaped  a  scene  at  one  time.  Lord is  in 

the  navy,  and  is  now  on  duty  in  the  fleet  at  the  Tagus.  We 
got  into  a  conversation  about  Portuguese  politics.  His  name 
was  mentioned,  and  Graham,  who  is  first  lord  of  the  admi- 
ralty, complimented  the  duchess  on  her  son's  merit,  to  which, 
he  said,  every  dispatch  bore  witness.  The  duchess  forthwith 
began  to  entreat  that  he  might  be  recalled.  He  was  very  ill, 
she  said.  If  he  staid  longer  on  that  station  she  was  sure  that 
he  would  die ;  and  then  she  began  to  cry.  I  can  not  bear  to 
see  women  cry,  and  the  matter  became  serious,  for  her  pret- 
ty daughter  began  to  bear  her  company.  That  hard-hearted 
Lord seemed  to  be  diverted  by  the  scene.  He,  by  all  ac- 
counts, has  been  doing  little  else  than  making  women  cry  dur- 
ing the  last  five-and-twenty  years.  However,  we  all  were  as 
still  as  death  while  the  wiping  of  eyes  and  the  blowing  of 
noses  proceeded.  At  last  Lord  Holland  contrived  to  restore 
our  spirits ;  but  before  the  duchess  went  away  she  managed  to 
have  a  tete-a-tete  with  Graham,  and,  I  have  no  doubt,  begged 
and  blubbered  to  some  purpose.  I  could  not  help  thinking 
how  many  honest,  stout-hearted  fellows  are  left  to  die  on  the 
most  unhealthy  stations,  for  want  of  being  related  to  some 
duchess  who  has  been  handsome,  or  to  some  duchess's  daugh- 
ter who  still  is  so. 

The  duchess  said  one  thing  that  amused  us.  We  were  talk- 
ing about  Lady  Morgan.  "  When  she  first  came  to  London," 
said  Lord  Holland,  "  I  remember  that  she  carried  a  little  Irish 
harp  about  with  her  wherever  she  went."  Others  denied  this. 
I  mentioned  what  she  says  in  her  "Book  of  the  Boudoir." 

There  she  relates  how  she  went  one  evening  to  Lady 's 

with  her  little  Irish  harp,  and  how  strange  every  body  thought 
it.  "I  see  nothing  very  strange,"  said  her  grace,  "in  her 

taking  her  harp  to  Lady 's.  If  she  brought  it  safe  away 

with  her,  that  would  have  been  strange  indeed."  On  this,  as 
a  friend  of  yours  says,  we  la-a-a-a-a-a-a-ft. 

I  am  glad  to  find  that  you  approve  of  my  conduct  about 
the  niggers.  I  expect,  and  indeed  wish,  to  be  abused  by  the 
Agency  Society.  My  father  is  quite  satisfied,  and  so  are  the 
best  part  of  my  Leeds  friends. 


1832-'34.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  285 

I  amuse  myself,  as  I  walk  back  from  the  House  at  two  in 
the  morning,  with  translating  Virgil.  I  am  at  work  on  one 
of  the  most  beautiful  episodes,  and  am  succeeding  pretty  well. 
You  shall  have  what  I  have  done  when  I  come  to  Liverpool; 
which  will  be,  I  hope,  in  three  weeks  or  thereanent. 

Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

To  Hcmndh  M.  Macaulay. 

London,  July  31st,  1833. 

MY  DEAR  SISTER, — Political  affairs  look  cheeringly.  The 
Lords  passed  the  Irish  Church  Bill  yesterday,  and  mean,  we 
understand,  to  give  us  little  or  no  trouble  about  the  India 
Bill.  There  is  still  a  hitch  in  the  Commons  about  the  West 
India  Bill,  particularly  about  the  twenty  millions  for  compen- 
sation to  the  planters ;  but  we  expect  to  carry  our  point  by 
a  great  majority.  By  the  end  of  next  week  we  shall  be  very 
near  the  termination  of  our  labors.  Heavy  labors  they  have 
been. 

So  Wilberforce  is  gone !  We  talk  of  burying  him  in  West- 
minster Abbey ;  and  many  eminent  men,  both  Whigs  and  To- 
ries, are  desirous  to  join  in  paying  him  this  honor.  There  i&. 
however,  a  story  about  a  promise  given  to  old  Stephen  that 
they  should  both  lie  in  the  same  grave.  Wilberforce  kept  his 
faculties,  and  (except  when  he  was  actually  in  fits)  his  spirits, 
to  the  very  last.  He  was  cheerful  and  full  of  anecdote  only 
last  Saturday.  He  owned  that  he  enjoyed  life  much,  and  that 
he  had  a  great  desire  to  live  longer.  Strange  in  a  man  who  had, 
I  should  have  said,  so  little  to  attach  him  to  this  world,  and  so 
firm  a  belief  in  another :  in  a  man  with  an  impaired  fortune, 
a  weak  spine,  and  a  worn-out  stomach !  What  is  this  fascina- 
tion which  makes  us  cling  to  existence,  in  spite  of  present  suf- 
ferings and  of  religious  hopes  ?  Yesterday  evening  I  called 
at  the  house  in  Cadogan  Place,  where  the  body  is  lying.  I 
was  truly  fond  of  him :  that  is  "  je  1'aimais  comme  1'on  aime." 
And  how  is  that  ?  How  very  little  one  human  being  general- 
ly cares  for  another !  How  very  little  the  world  misses  any 
body  !  How  soon  the  chasm  left  by  the  best  and  wisest  men 
closes !  I  thought,  as  I  walked  back  from  Cadogan  Place,  that 


286  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  v. 

our  own  selfishness  when  others  are  taken  away  ought  to  teach 
us  how  little  others  will  suffer  at  losing  us.  I  thought  that,  if 
I  were  to  die  to-morrow,  not  one  of  the  fine  people  whom  I 
dine  with  every  week  will  take  a  cotelette  aux  petits  pois  the 
less  on  Saturday  at  the  table  to  which  I  was  invited  to  meet 
them,  or  will  smile  less  gayly  at  the  ladies  over  the  Cham- 
pagne. And  I  am  quite  even  with  them.  What  are  those 
pretty  lines  of  Shelley  ? 

Oh,  world,  farewell ! 

Listen  to  the  passing  bell. 

It  tells  that  thon  and  I  must  part 

With  a  light  and  heavy  heart. 

There  are  not  ten  people  in  the  world  whose  deaths  would 
spoil  my  dinner;  but  there  are  one  or  two  whose  deaths 
would  break  my  heart.  The  more  I  see  of  the  world,  and  the 
more  numerous  my  acquaintance  becomes,  the  narrower  and 
more  exclusive  my  affection  grows,  and  the  more  I  cling  to 
my  sisters,  and  to  one  or  two  old  tried  friends  of  my  quiet 
days.  But  why  should  I  go  on  preaching  to  you  out  of  Ec- 
clesiastes  ?  And  here  comes,  fortunately,  to  break  the  train  of 
my  melancholy  reflections,  the  proof  of  my  East  India  speech 
from  Hansard :  so  I  must  put  my  letter  aside  and  correct  the 
press.  Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

To  Hannah  M.  Macaulay. 

London,  August  2d,  1833. 

MY  DEAE  SISTER, — I  agree  with  your  judgment  on  Chester- 
field's "  Letters."  They  are  for  the  most  part  trash ;  though 
they  contain  some  clever  passages,  and  the  style  is  not  bad. 
Their  celebrity  must  be  attributed  to  causes  quite  distinct  from 
their  literary  merit,  and  particularly  to  the  position  which  the 
author  held  in  society.  We  see  in  our  own  time  that  the  books 
written  by  public  men  of  note  are  generally  rated  at  more 
than  their  value :  Lord  Granville's  little  compositions,  for  ex- 
ample ;  Canning's  verses ;  Fox's  history ;  Brougham's  trea- 
tises. The  writings  of  people  of  high  fashion,  also,  have  a 
value  set  on  them  far  higher  than  that  which  intrinsically  be- 
longs to  them.  The  verses  of  the  late  Duchess  of  Devonshire, 


1832-'34.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  287 

or  an  occasional  prologue  by  Lord  Alvanley,  attract  a  most 
undue  share  of  attention.  If  the  present  Duke  of  Devon- 
shire, who  is  the  very  "  glass  of  fashion  and  mold  of  form," 
were  to  publish  a  book  with  two  good  pages,  it  would  be  ex- 
tolled as  a  masterpiece  in  half  the  drawing-rooms  of  London. 
Now,  Chesterfield  was,  what  no  person  in  our  time  has  been  or 
can  be,  a  great  political  leader  and  at  the  same  time  the  ac- 
knowledged chief  of  the  fashionable  world ;  at  the  head  of  the 
House  of  Lords  and  at  the  head  of  ton  /  Mr.  Canning  and  the 
Duke  of  Devonshire  in  one.  In  our  time  the  division  of  la- 
bor is  carried  so  far  that  such  a  man  could  not  exist.  Politics 
require  the  whole  of  energy,  bodily  and  mental,  during  half 
the  year ;  and  leave  very  little  time  for  the  bow  -  window  at 
White's  in  the  day,  or  for  the  crush-room  of  the  opera  at 
night.  A  century  ago  the  case  was  different*  Chesterfield 
was  at  once  the  most  distinguished  orator  in  the  Upper  House, 
and  the  undisputed  sovereign  of  wit  and  fashion.  He  held 
this  eminence  for  about  forty  years.  At  last  it  became  the 
regular  custom  of  the  higher  circles  to  laugh  whenever  he 
opened  his  mouth,  without  waiting  for  his  bonmot.  He  used 
to  sit  at  White's  with  a  circle  of  young  men  of  rank  round 
him,  applauding  every  syllable  that  he  uttered.  If  you  wish 
for  a  proof  of  the  kind  of  position  which  Chesterfield  held 
among  his  contemporaries,  look  at  the  prospectus  of  John- 
son's "  Dictionary."  Look  even  at  Johnson's  angry  letter.  It 
contains  the  strongest  admission  of  the  boundless  influence 
which  Chesterfield  exercised  over  society.  When  the  letters 
of  such  a  man  were  published,  of  course  they  were  received 
more  favorably  by  far  than  they  deserved. 

So  much  for  criticism.  As  to  politics,  every  thing  seems 
tending  to  repose ;  and  I  should  think  that  by  this  day  fort- 
night we  shall  probably  be  prorogued.  The  Jew  Bill  was 
thrown  out  yesterday  night  by  the  Lords.  No  matter.  Our 
turn  will  come  one  of  these  days. 

If  you  want  to  see  me  puffed  and  abused  by  somebody  who 
evidently  knows  nothing  about  me,  look  at  the  New  Monthly 
for  this  month.  Bulwer,  I  see,  has  given  up  editing  it.  I 
suppose  he  is  making  money  in  some  other  way ;  for  his  dress 


288  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  v. 

must  cost  as  much  as  that  of  any  five  other  members  of  Par- 
liament. 

To-morrow  Wilberforee  is  to  be  buried.  His  sons  acceded 
with  great  eagerness  to  the  application  made  to  them  by  a 
considerable  number  of  the  members  of  both  Houses  that  the 
funeral  should  be  public.  We  meet  to-morrow  at  twelve  at 
the  House  of  Commons,  and  we  shall  attend  the  coffin  into 
the  Abbey.  The  Duke  of  Wellington,  Lord  Eldon,  and  Sir 
R.  Peel  have  put  down  their  names,  as  well  as  the  ministers 
and  the  Abolitionists. 

My  father  urges  me  to  pay  some  tribute  to  Wilberforce  in 
the  House  of  Commons.  If  any  debate  should  take  place  on 
the  third  reading  of  the  West  India  Bill  in  which  I  might 
take  part,  I  should  certainly  embrace  the  opportunity  of  do- 
ing honor  to  liis  memory.  But  I  do  not  expect  that  such 
an  occasion  will  arise.  The  House  seems  inclined  to  pass 
the  bill  without  more  contest ;  and  my  father  must  be  aware 
that  any  thing  like  theatrical  display — any  thing  like  a  set 
funeral  oration  not  springing  naturally  out  of  the  discussion 
of  a  question — is  extremely  distasteful  to  the  House  of  Com- 
mons. 

I  have  been  clearing  off  a  great  mass  of  business  which  had 
accumulated  at  our  office  while  we  were  conducting  our  bill 
through  Parliament.  To-day  I  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing 
the  green  boxes,  which  a  week  ago  were  piled  up  with  papers 
three  or  four  feet  high,  perfectly  empty.  Admire  my  super- 
human industry.  This  I  will  say  for  myself,  that,  when  I  do 
sit  down  to  work,  I  work  harder  and  faster  than  any  person 
that  I  ever  knew.  Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

The  next  letter,  in  terms  too  clear  to  require  comment,  in- 
troduces the  mention  of  what  proved  to  be  the  most  important 
circumstance  in  Macaulay's  life. 

To  Hanncih  M.  Macaulay. 

London,  August  17th,  1833. 

MY  DEAR  SISTER, — I  am  about  to  write  to  you  on  a  sub- 
ject which  to  you  and  Margaret  will  be  one  of  the  most 


1832-'34.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  289 

agitating  interest ;  and  which,  on  that  account  chiefly,  is  so 
to  me. 

By  the  new  India  Bill  it  is  provided  that  one  of  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Supreme  Council,  which  is  to  govern  our  Eastern 
empire,  is  to  be  chosen  from  among  persons  who  are  not  serv- 
ants of  the  company.  It  is  probable,  indeed  nearly  certain, 
that  the  situation  will  be  offered  to  me. 

The  advantages  are  very  great.  It  is  a  post  of  the  highest 
dignity  and  consideration.  The  salary  is  ten  thousand  pounds 
a  year.  I  am  assured  by  persons  who  know  Calcutta  intimate- 
ly, and  who  have  themselves  mixed  in  the  highest  circles  and 
held  the  highest  offices  at  that  presidency,  that  I  may  live  in 
splendor  there  for  five  thousand  a  year,  and  may  save  the  rest 
of  the  salary  with  the  accruing  interest.  I  may  therefore 
hope  to  return  to  England  at  only  thirty-nine,  in  the  full  vig- 
or of  life,  with  a  fortune  of  thirty  thousand  pounds.  A  larger 
fortune  I  never  desired. 

I  am  not  fond  of  money,  or  anxious  about  it.  But,  though 
every  day  makes  me  less  and  less  eager  for  wealth,  every  day 
shows  me  more  and  more  strongly  how  necessary  a  compe- 
tence is  to  a  man  who  desires  to  be  either  great  or  useful.  At 
present  the  plain  fact  is  that  I  can  continue  to  be  a  public 
man  only  while  I  can  continue  in  office.  If  I  left  my  place 
in  tUe  Government,  I  must  leave  my  seat  in  Parliament  too. 
For  I  must  live:  I  can  live  only  by  my  pen:  and  it  is  abso- 
lutely impossible  for  any  man  to  write  enough  to  procure  him 
a  decent  subsistence,  and  at  the  same  time  to  take  an  active 
part  in  politics.  I  have  not  during  this  session  been  able  to 
send  a  single  line  to  the  Edinburgh  Review;  and  if  I  had  been 
out  of  office,  I  should  have  been  able  to  do  very  little.  Ed- 
ward Bulwer  has  just  given  up  the  New  Monthly  Magazine 
on  the  ground  that  he  can  not  conduct  it  and  attend  to  his 
Parliamentary  duties.  Cobbett  has  been  compelled  to  neg- 
lect his  Register  so  much  that  its  sale  has  fallen  almost  to 
nothing.  Now,  in  order  to  live  like  a  gentleman,  it  would  be 
necessary  for  me  to  write,  not  as  I  have  done  hitherto,  but 
regularly,  and  even  daily.  I  have  never  made  more  than  two 
hundred  a  year  by  my  pen.  I  could  not  support  myself  in 

YOL.  I.— 19 


290  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  v. 

comfort  on  less  than  five  hundred  ;  and  I  shall  in  all  probabil- 
ity have  many  others  to  support.  The  prospects  of  our  fam- 
ily are,  if  possible,  darker  than  ever. 

In  the  mean  time  my  political  outlook  is  very  gloomy.  A 
schism  in  the  ministry  is  approaching.  It  requires  only  that 
common  knowledge  of  public  affairs  which  any  reader  of  the 
newspapers  may  possess  to  see  this ;  and  I  have  more,  much 
more,  than  common  knowledge  on  the  subject.  They  can 
not  hold  together.  I  tell  you  in  perfect  seriousness  that  my 
chance  of  keeping  my  present  situation  for  six  months  is  so 
small,  that  I  would  willingly  sell  it  for  fifty  pounds  down. 
If  I  remain  in  office,  I  shall,  I  fear,  lose  my  political  character. 
If  I  go  out,  and  engage  in  opposition,  I  shall  break  most  of 
the  private  ties  which  I  have  formed  during  the  last  three 
years.  In  England  I  see  nothing  before  me,  for  some  time  to 
come,  but  poverty,  unpopularity,  and  the  breaking-up  of  old 
connections. 

If  there  were  no  way  out  of  these  difficulties,  I  would  en- 
counter them  with  courage.  A  man  can  always  act  honora- 
bly and  uprightly ;  and,  if  I  were  in  the  Fleet  Prison  or  the 
rules  of  the  King's  Bench,  I  believe  that  I  could  find  in  my 
own  mind  resources  which  would  preserve  me  from  being 
positively  unhappy.  But  if  I  could  escape  from  these  im- 
pending disasters,  I  should  wish  to  do  so.  By  accepting  the 
post  which  is  likely  to  be  offered  to  me,  I  withdraw  myself 
for  a  short  time  from  the  contests  of  faction  here.  When  I 
return,  I  shall  find  things  settled,  parties  formed  into  new 
combinations,  and  new  questions  under  discussion.  I  shall 
then  be  able,  without  the  scandal  of  a  violent  separation,  and 
without  exposing  myself  to  the  charge  of  inconsistency,  to 
take  my  own  line.  In  the  mean  time  I  shall  save  my  family 
from  distress;  and  shall  return  with  a  competence  honestly 
earned,  as  rich  as  if  I  were  Duke  of  [Northumberland  or  Mar- 
quess of  Westminster,  and  able  to  act  on  all  public  questions 
without  even  a  temptation  to  deviate  from  the  strict  line  of 
duty.  While  in  India,  I  shall  have  to  discharge  duties  not 
painfully  laborious,  and  of  the  highest  and  most  honorable 
kind.  I  shall  have  whatever  that  country  affords  of  comfort 


1832-'34.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  291 

or  splendor ;  nor  will  my  absence  be  so  long  that  my  friends, 
or  the  public  here,  will  be  likely  to  lose  sight  of  me. 

The  only  persons  who  know  what  I  have  written  to  you 
are  Lord  Grey,  the  Grants,  Stewart  Mackenzie,  and  George 
Babington.  Charles  Grant  and  Stewart  Mackenzie,  who 
know  better  than  most  men  the  state  of  the  political  world, 
think  that  I  should  act  unwisely  in  refusing  this  post;  and 
this  though  they  assure  me,  and,  I  really  believe,  sincerely, 
that  they  shall  feel  the  loss  of  my  society  very  acutely.  But 
what  shall  I  feel  ?  And  with  what  emotions,  loving  as  I  do 
my  country  and  my  family,  can  I  look  forward  to  such  a  sep- 
aration, enjoined,  as  I  think  it  is,  by  prudence  and  by  duty? 
AVhether  the  period  of  my  exile  shall  be  one  of  comfort,  and, 
after  the  first  shock,  even  of  happiness,  depends  on  you.  If, 
as  I  expect,  this  offer  shall  be  made  to  me,  will  you  go  with 
me?  I  know  what  a  sacrifice  I  ask  of  you.  I  know  how 
many  dear  and  precious  ties  you  must,  for  a  time,  sunder.  I 
know  that  the  splendor  of  the  Indian  Court,  and  the  gayeties 
of  that  brilliant  society  of  which  you  would  be  one  of  the 
leading  personages,  have  no  temptation  for  you.  I  can  bribe 
you  only  by  telling  you  that,  if  you  will  go  with  me,  I  will 
love  you  better  than  I  love  you  now,  if  I  can. 

I  have  asked  George  Babington  about  your  health  and 
mine.  He  says  that  he  has  very  little  apprehension  for  me, 
and  none  at  all  for  you.  Indeed,  he  seemed  to  think  that  the 
climate  would  be  quite  as  likely  to  do  you  good  as  harm. 

All  this  is  most  strictly  secret.  You  may,  of  course,  show 
the  letter  to  Margaret,  and  Margaret  may  tell  Edward ;  for  I 
never  cabal  against  the  lawful  authority  of  husbands.  But 
further  the  thing  must  not  go.  It  would  hurt  my  father,  and 
very  justly,  to  hear  of  it  from  any  body  before  he  hears  of  it 
from  myself ;  and  if  the  least  hint  of  it  were  to  get  abroad,  I 
should  be  placed  in  a  very  awkward  position  with  regard  to 
the  people  at  Leeds.  It  is  possible,  though  not  probable,  that 
difficulties  may  arise  at  the  India  House  ;  and  I  do  not  mean 
to  say  any  thing  to  any  person  who  is  not  already  in  the  se- 
cret till  the  directors  have  made  their  choice,  and  till  the 
king's  pleasure  has  been  taken. 


292  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  v. 

And  now  think  calmly  over  what  I  have  written.  I  would 
not  have  written  on  the  subject  even  to  you  till  the  matter 
was  quite  settled,  if  I  had  not  thought  that  you  ought  to  have 
full  time  to  make  up  your  mind.  If  you  feel  an  insurmount- 
able aversion  to  India,  I  will  do  all  in  my  power  to  make 
your  residence  in  England  comfortable  during  my  absence, 
and  to  enable  you  to  confer  instead  of  receiving  benefits. 
But  if  my  dear  sister  would  consent  to  give  me,  at  this  great 
crisis  of  my  life,  that  proof,  that  painful  and  arduous  proof,  of 
her  affection  which  I  beg  of  her,  I  think  that  she  will  not  re- 
pent of  it.  She  shall  not,  if  the  unbounded  confidence  and 
attachment  of  one  to  whom  she  is  dearer  than  life  can  com- 
pensate her  for  a  few  years'  absence  from  much  that  she  loves. 

Dear  Margaret !  She  will  feel  this.  Consult  her,  my  love, 
and  let  us  both  have  the  advantage  of  such  advice  as  her  ex- 
cellent understanding,  and  her  warm  affection  for  us,  may  fur- 
nish. On  Monday  next,  at  the  latest,  I  expect  to  be  with  you. 
Our  Scotch  tour,  under  these  circumstances,  must  be  short. 
By  Christmas  it  will  be  fit  that  the  new  councilor  should 
leave  England.  His  functions  in  India  commence  next  April. 
We  shall  leave  our  dear  Margaret,  I  hope,  a  happy  mother. 

Farewell,  my  dear  sister.  You  can  not  tell  how  impatiently 
I  shall  wait  for  your  answer.  T.  B.  M. 

This  letter,  written  under  the  influence  of  deep  and  varied 
emotions,  was  read  with  feelings  of  painful  agitation  and  sur- 
prise. India  was  not  then  the  familiar  name  that  it  has  be- 
come to  a  generation  which  regards  a  visit  to  Cashmere  as  a 
trip  to  be  undertaken  between  two  London  seasons  ^  and  which 
discusses  over  its  breakfast-table  at  home  the  decisions  arrived 
at  on  the  previous  afternoon  in  the  council-room  of  Simla  or 
Calcutta.  In  those  rural  parsonages  and  middle-class  house- 
holds where  service  in  our  Eastern  territories  now  presents  it- 
self in  the  light  of  a  probable  and  desirable  destiny  for  a  prom- 
ising son,  those  same  territories  were  forty  years  ago  regarded 
as  an  obscure  and  distant  region  of  disease  and  death.  A  girl 
who  had  seen  no  country  more  foreign  than  Wales,  and  cross- 
ed no  water  broader  and  more  tempestuous  than  the  Mersey, 


1832-'34.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  293 

looked  forward  to  a  voyage  which  (as  she  subsequently  learn- 
ed by  melancholy  experience)  might  extend  over  six  weary 
months,  with  an  anxiety  .that  can  hardly  be  imagined  by  us 
who  spend  only  half  as  many  weeks  on  the  journey  between 
Dover  and  Bombay.  A  separation  from  beloved  relations  un- 
der such  conditions  was  a  separation  indeed  ;  and  if  Macaulay 
and  his  sister  could  have  foreseen  how  much  of  what  they  left 
at  their  departure  they  would  fail  to  find  on  their  return,  it  is 
a  question  whether  any  earthly  consideration  could  have  in- 
duced them  to  quit  their  native  shore.  But  Hannah's  sense 
of  duty  was  too  strong  for  these  doubts  and  tremors;  and, 
happily  (for,  on  the  whole,  her  resolution  was  a  fortunate  one), 
she  resolved  to  accompany  her  brother  in  an  expatriation 
which  he  never  would  have  faced  without  her.  With  a  mind 
set  at  ease  by  a  knowledge  of  her  intention,  he  came  down  to 
Liverpool  as  soon  as  the  session  was  at  an  end ;  and  carried 
her  off  on  a  jaunt  to  Edinburgh  in  a  post-chaise,  furnished  with 
Horace  "Walpole's  letters  for  their  common  reading,  and  Smol- 
lett's collected  works  for  his  own.  Before  October  he  was 
back  at  the  Board  of  Control ;  and  his  letters  recommenced, 
as  frequent  and  rather  more  serious  and  business-like  than  of 
old. 

London,  October  5th,  1833. 

DEAR  HANNAH, — Life  goes  on  so  quietly  here,  or  rather 
stands  so  still,  that  I  have  nothing,  or  next  to  nothing,  to  say. 
At  the  Athenaeum  I  now  and  then  fall  in  with  some  person 
passing  through  town  on  his  way  to  the  Continent  or  to 
Brighton.  The  other  day  I  met  Sharp,  and  had  a  long  talk 
with  him  about  every  thing  and  every  body — metaphysics, 
poetry,  politics,  scenery,  and  painting.  One  thing  I  have  ob- 
served in  Sharp,  which  is  quite  peculiar  to  him  among  town- 
wits  and  diners-out.  He  never  talks  scandal.  If  he  can  say 
nothing  good  of  a  man,  he  holds  his  tongue.  I  do  not,  of 
course,  mean  that  in  confidential  communication  about  politics 
he  does  not  speak  freely  of  public  men  ;  but  about  the  foibles 
of  private  individuals  I  do  not  believe  that,  much  as  I  have 
talked  with  him,  I  ever  heard  him  utter  one  word.  I  passed 
three  or  four  hours  very  agreeably  in  his  company  at  the  club. 


294  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  v. 

I  have  also  seen  Kenny  for  an  hour  or  two.  I  do  not  know 
that  I  ever  mentioned  Kenny  to  you.  "When  London  is  over- 
flowing, I  meet  such  numbers  of  people  that  I  can  not  remem- 
ber half  their  names.  This  is  the  time  at  which  every  ac- 
quaintance, however  slight,  attracts  some  degree  of  attention. 
In  the  desert  island,  even  poor  Poll  was  something  of  a  com- 
panion to  Robinson  Crusoe.  Kenny  is  a  writer  of  a  class 
which,  in  our  time,  is  at  the  very  bottom  of  the  literary  scale. 
He  is  a  dramatist.  Most  of  the  farces  and  three -act  plays 
which  have  succeeded  during  the  last  eight  or  ten  years  are,  I 
am  told,  from  his  pen.  Heaven  knows  that,  if  they  are  the 
farces  and  plays  which  I  have  seen,  they  do  him  but  little 
honor.  However,  this  man  is  one  of  our  great  comic  writers. 
He  has  the  merit,  such  as  it  is,  of  hitting  the  very  bad  taste  of 
our  modern  audiences  better  than  any  other  person  who  has 
stooped  to  that  degrading  work.  We  had  a  good  deal  of  liter- 
ary chat,  and  I  thought  him  a  clever,  shrewd  fellow. 

My  father  is  poorly :  not  that  any  thing  very  serious  is  the 
matter  with  him  ;  but  he  has  a  cold,  and  is  in  low  spirits. 
Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

London,  October  14th,  1833. 

DEAR  HANNAH, — I  have  just  finished  my  article  on  Horace 
Walpole.  This  is  one  of  the  happy  moments  of  my  life :  a 
stupid  task  performed ;  a  weight  taken  off  my  mind.  I  should 
be  quite  joyous  if  I  had  only  you  to  read  it  to.  But  to  Na- 
pier it  must  go  forthwith ;  and  as  soon  as  I  have  finished  this 
letter,  I  shall  put  it  into  the  general  post  with  my  own  fair 
hands.  I  was  up  at  four  this  morning  to  put  the  last  touch 
to  it.  I  often  differ  with  the  majority  about  other  people's 
writings,  and  still  of tener  about  my  own,  and  therefore  I  may 
very  likely  be  mistaken ;  but  I  think  that  this  article  will  be 
a  hit.  We  shall  see.  Nothing  ever  cost  me  more  pains  than 
the  first  half ;  I  never  wrote  any  thing  so  flowingly  as  the  lat- 
ter half ;  and  I  like  the  latter  half  the  best.  I  have  laid  it  on 
Walpole  so  unsparingly  that  I  shall  not  be  surprised  if  Miss 
Berry  should  cut  me.  You  know  she  was  Walpole's  favorite 
in  her  youth.  Neither  am  I  sure  that  Lord  and  Lady  Holland 


1832-'34.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  295 

will  be  well  pleased.  But  they  ought  to  be  obliged  to  me ; 
for  I  refrained,  for  their  sake,  from  laying  a  hand,  which  has 
been  thought  to  be  not  a  light  one,  on  that  old  rogue,  the  first 
Lord  Holland.* 

Charles  Grant  is  still  at  Paris ;  ill,  he  says.  I  never  knew 
a  man  who  wanted  setting  to  rights  so  often.  He  goes  as 
badly  as  your  watch. 

My  father  is  at  me  again  to  provide  for  P .  What  on 

earth  have  I  to  do  with  P ?  The  relationship  is  one 

which  none  but  Scotchmen  would  recognize.  The  lad  is  such 
a  fool  that  he  would  utterly  disgrace  my  recommendation. 
And,  as  if  to  make  the  thing  more  provoking,  his  sisters  say 
that  he  must  be  provided  for  in  England,  for  that  they  can  not 
think  of  parting  with  him.  This,  to  be  sure, -matters  little; 
for  there  is  at  present  just  as  little  chance  of  getting  any  thing 
in  India  as  in  England. 

But  what  strange  folly  this  is  which  meets  me  in  every 
quarter — people  wanting  posts  in  the  army,  the  navy,  the 
public  offices,  and  saying  that  if  they  can  not  find  such  posts 
they  must  starve !  How  do  all  the  rest  of  mankind  live  ?  If 
I  had  not  happened  to  be  engaged  in  politics,  and  if  my  father 
had  not  been  connected,  by  veiy  extraordinary  circumstances, 
with  public  men,  we  should  never  have  dreamed  of  having 

places.  Why  can  not  P be  apprenticed  to  some  hatter 

or  tailor?  He  may  do  well  in  such  a  business:  he  will  do 
detestably  ill  as  a  clerk  in  my  office.  He  may  come  to  make 
good  coats :  he  will  never,  I  am  sure,  write  good  dispatches. 
There  is  nothing  truer  than  Poor  Richard's  saw,  "  We  are 
taxed  twice  as  heavily  by  our  pride  as  by  the  state."  The 
curse  of  England  is  the  obstinate  determination  of  the  middle 
classes  to  make  their  sons  what  they  call  gentlemen.  So  we 
are  overrun  by  clergymen  without  livings ;  lawyers  without 
briefs ;  physicians  without  patients ;  authors  without  readers ; 
clerks  soliciting  employment,  who  might  have  thriven,  and 

*  Lord  Holland,  once  upon  a  time,  speaking  to  Macaulay  of  his  grand- 
father, said,  "  He  had  that  temper  which  kind  folks  have  been  pleased  to 
say  belongs  to  my  family  ;  but  ho  shared  the  fault  that  belonged  to  that 
school  of  statesmen,  an  utter  disbelief  iu  public  virtue." 


296  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  v. 

been  above  the  world,  as  bakers,  watch-makers,  or  innkeepers. 
The  next  time  my  father  speaks  to  me  about  P ,  I  will  of- 
fer to  subscribe  twenty  guineas  toward  making  a  pastry-cook 
of  him.  He  had  a  sweet  tooth  when  he  was  a  child. 

So  you  are  reading  Burnet !  Did  you  begin  from  the  be- 
ginning? What  do  you  think  of  the  old  fellow?  He  was 
always  a  great  favorite  of  mine;  honest,  though  careless;  a 
strong  party  man  on  the  right  side,  yet  with  much  kind  feel- 
ing toward  his  opponents,  and  even  toward  his  personal  ene- 
mies. He  is  to  me  a  most  entertaining  writer ;  far  superior 
to  Clarendon  in  the  art  of  amusing,  though  of  course  far  Clar- 
endon's inferior  in  discernment,  and  in  dignity  and  correctness 
of  style.  Do  you  know,  by-the-bye,  Clarendon's  life  of  him- 
self ?  I  like  it,  the  part  after  the  Restoration  at  least,  better 
than  his  great  History. 

I  am  very  quiet :  rise  at  seven  or  half -past ;  read  Spanish 
till  ten;  breakfast;  walk  to  my  office;  stay  there  till  four; 
take  a  long  walk ;  dine  toward  seven ;  and  am  in  bed  before 
eleven.  I  am  going  through  "  Don  Quixote"  again,  and  admire 
it  more  than  ever.  It  is  certainly  the  best  novel  in  the  world, 
beyond  all  comparison.  Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

To  Hannah  M.  Macaulay. 

London,  October  21st,  1833. 

MY  DEAR  SISTER, — Grant  is  here  at  last,  and  we  have  had  a 
very  long  talk  about  matters  both  public  and  private.  The 
Government  would  support  my  appointment,  but  he  expects 
violent  opposition  from  the  Company.  He  mentioned  my 
name  to  the  Chairs,*  and  they  were  furious.  They  know  that 
I  have  been  against  them  through  the  whole  course  of  the  ne- 
gotiations which  resulted  in  the  India  Bill.  They  put  their 
opposition  on  the  ground  of  my  youth  —  a  very  flattering 
objection  to  a  man  who  this  week  completes  his  thirty-third 
year.  They  spoke  very  highly  of  me  in  other  respects ;  but 
they  seemed  quite  obstinate. 

*  The  Chairman  and  Deputy  Chairman  of  the  East  India  Company  vrere 
at  that  time  Mr.  Campbell  Marjoribauks  and  Mr.  Wigram. 


1832-'34.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  297 

The  question  now  is  whether  their  opposition  will  be  sup- 
ported by  the  other  directors.  If  it  should  be  so,  I  have  ad- 
vised Grant  most  strongly  to  withdraw  my  name,  to  put  up 
some  other  man,  and  then  to  fight  the  battle  to  the  utmost. 
We  shall  be  suspected  of  jobbing  if  we  proceed  to  extremities 
on  behalf  of  one  of  ourselves ;  but  we  can  do  what  we  like,  if 
it  is  in  favor  of  some  person  whom  we  can  not  be  suspected 
of  supporting  from  interested  motives.  From  the  extreme 
unreasonableness  and  pertinacity  which  are  discernible  in  ev- 
ery communication  that  we  receive  from  the  India  House  at 
present,  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  I  have  no  chance  of  being 
chosen  by  them,  without  a  dispute  in  which  I  should  not  wish 
the  Government  to  engage  for  such  a  purpose.  Lord  Grey 
says  that  I  have  a  right  to  their  support  if  I  ask  for  it ;  but 
that,  for  the  sake  of  his  administration  generally,  he  is  very 
adverse  to  my  going.  I  do  not  think  that  I  shall  go.  How- 
ever, a  few  days  will  decide  the  matter. 

I  have  heard  from  Napier.  He  praises  my  article  on  "Wai- 
pole  in  terms  absolutely  extravagant.  He  says  that  it  is  the 
best  that  I  ever  wrote,  and,  entre  nous,  I  am  not  very  far  from 
agreeing  with  him.  I  am  impatient  to  have  your  opinion. 
No  flattery  pleases  me  so  much  as  domestic  flattery.  You 
will  have  the  number  within  the  week.  Ever  yours, 

T.  B.  M. 
To  Macvey  No/pier,  Esq. 

London,  October  21st,  1833. 

DEAR  NAPIEE, — I  am  glad  to  learn  that  you  like  my  article. 
I  like  it  myself,  which  is  not  much  my  habit.  Yery  likely 
the  public,  which  has  often  been  kinder  to  my  performances 
than  I  was,  may  on  this,  as  on  other  occasions,  differ  from  me 
in  opinion.  If  the  paper  has  any  merit,  it  owes  it  to  the  de- 
lay of  which  you  must,  I  am  sure,  have  complained  very  bit- 
terly in  your  heart.  I  was  so  thoroughly  dissatisfied  with  the 
article  as  it  stood  at  first  that  I  completely  rewrote  it ;  altered 
the  whole  arrangement ;  left  out  ten  or  twelve  pages  in  one 
part ;  and  added  twice  as  many  in  another.  I  never  wrote 
any  thing  so  slowly  as  the  first  half,  or  so  rapidly  as  the  last 
half. 


298  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  v. 

You  are  in  an  error  about  Akenside,  which  I  must  clear  up 
for  his  credit,  and  for  mine.  You  are  confounding  the  "  Ode 
to  Curio  "  and  the  "  Epistle  to  Curio."  The  latter  is  general- 
ly printed  at  the  end  of  Akenside's  works,  and  is,  I  think, 
the  best  thing  that  he  ever  wrote.  The  "  Ode  "  is  worthless. 
It  is  merely  an  abridgment  of  the  "  Epistle,"  executed  in  the 
most  unskillful  way.  Johnson  says,  in  his  "Life  of  Aken- 
side,"* that  no  poet  ever  so  much  mistook  his  powers  as  Aken- 
side when  he  took  to  lyric  composition.  "  Having,"  I  think 
the  words  are,  "  written  with  great  force  and  poignancy  his 
'Epistle  to  Curio,'  he  afterward  transformed  it  into  an  ode 
only  disgraceful  to  its  author." 

"When  I  said  that  Chesterfieldf  had  lost  by  the  publication  of 
his  "  Letters,"  I  of  course  considered  that  he  had  much  to  lose ; 
that  he  has  left  an  immense  reputation,  founded  on  the  testi- 
mony of  all  his  contemporaries  of  all  parties,  for  wit,  taste, 
and  eloquence ;  that  what  remains  of  his  Parliamentary  ora- 
tory is  superior  to  any  thing  of  that  time  that  has  come  down 
to  us,  except  a  little  of  Pitt's.  The  utmost  that  can  be  said  of 
the  letters  is  that  they  are  the  letters  of  a  cleverish  man ;  and 
there  are  not  many  which  are  entitled  even  to  that  praise.  I 
think  he  would  have  stood  higher  if  we  had  been  left  to  judge 
of  his  powers — as  we  judge  of  those  of  Chatham,  Mansfield, 
Charles  Townshend,  and  many  others — only  by  tradition,  and 
by  fragments  of  speeches  preserved  in  Parliamentary  reports. 

I  said  nothing  about  Lord  Byron's  criticism  on  Walpole,  be- 
cause I  thought  it,  like  most  of  his  lordship's  criticism,  below 
refutation.  On  the  drama  Lord  Byron  wrote  more  nonsense 

*  "Akenside  was  one  of  the  fiercest  and  the  most  nncompromisiug  of  the 
yonng  patriots  out  of  Parliament.  When  he  found  that  the  change  of  ad- 
ministration had  produced  no  change  of  system,  he  gave  vent  to  his  indig- 
nation in  the  '  Epistle  to  Curio,'  the  best  poem  that  he  ever  wrote  ;  a  poem, 
indeed,  which  seems  to  indicate  that  if  he  had  left  lyrical  composition  to 
Gray  and  Collins,  and  had  employed  his  powers  in  grave  and  elevated  sat- 
ire, he  might  have  disputed  the  pre-eminence  of  Dryden." — Macaulay's  Es- 
say on  Horace  Walpole. 

t  "Lord  Chesterfield  stands  much  lower  in  the  estimation  of  posterity 
than  he  would  have  done  if  his  "  Letters  "  had  never  been  published. 


1832-'34.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  299 

than  on  any  subject.  He  wanted  to  have  restored  the  unities. 
His  practice  proved  as  unsuccessful  as  his  theory  was  absurd. 
His  admiration  of  "  The  Mysterious  Mother "  was  of  a  piece 
with  his  thinking  Gifford  and  Rogers  greater  poets  than 
"Wordsworth  and  Coleridge.  Ever  yours  truly, 

T.  B.  MACAULAY. 

London,  October  28th,  1833. 

DEAR  HANNAH, — I  wish  to  have  Malkin*  as  head  of  the 
commission  at  Canton,  and  Grant  seems  now  to  be  strongly 
bent  on  the  same  plan.  Malkin  is  a  man  of  singular  temper, 
judgment,  and  firmness  of  nerve.  Danger  and  responsibili- 
ty, instead  of  agitating  and  confusing  him,  always  bring  out 
whatever  there  is  in  him.  This  was  the  reason  of  his  great 
success  at  Cambridge.  He  made  a  figure  there  far  beyond 
his  learning  or  his  talents,  though  both  his  learning  and  his 
talents  are  highly  respectable.  But  the  moment  that  he  sat 
down  to  be  examined,  which  is  just  the  situation  in  which  all 
other  people,  from  natural  flurry,  do  worse  than  at  other  times, 
he  began  to  do  his  very  best.  His  intellect  became  clearer, 
and  his  manner  more  quiet,  than  usual.  He  is  the  very  man 
to  make  up  his  mind  in  three  minutes  if  the  Viceroy  of  Can- 
ton were  in  a  rage,  the  mob  bellowing  round  the  doors  of  the 
factory,  and  an  English  ship  of  war  making  preparations  to 
bombard  the  town. 

Apropos  of  places,  my  father  has  been  at  me  again  about 

P .  Would  you  think  it  ?  This  lad  has  a  hundred  and 

twenty  pounds  a  year  for  life !  I  could  not  believe  my  ears ; 
but  so  it  is ;  and  I,  who  have  not  a  penny,  with  half  a  dozen 
brothers  and  sisters  as  poor  as  myself,  am  to  move  heaven 
and  earth  to  push  this  boy,  who,  as  he  is  the  silliest,  is  also, 
I  think,  the  richest  relation  that  I  have  in  the  world. 

I  am  to  dine  on  Thursday  with  the  Fish-mongers'  Company, 
the  first  company  for  gourmands  in  the  world.  Their  mag- 
nificent hall  near  London  Bridge  is  not  yet  built;  but  as  re- 

*  Sir  Benjamin  Malkin,  a  college  friend  of  Macaulay,  was  afterward  a 
judge  in  the  Supreme  Court  at  Calcutta. 


300  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  v. 

spects  eating  and  drinking  I  shall  be  no  loser,  for  we  are  to 
be  entertained  at  the  Albion  Tavern.  This  is  the  first  dinner- 
party that  I  shall  have  been  to  for  a  long  time.  There  is  no- 
body in  town  that  I  know  except  official  men,  and  they  have 
left  their  wives  and  households  in  the  country.  I  met  Poodle 
Byng,  it  is  true,  the  day  before  yesterday  in  the  street ;  and 
he  begged  me  to  make  haste  to  Brooks's ;  for  Lord  Essex  was 
there,  he  said,  whipping  up  for  a  dinner-party,  cursing  and 
swearing  at  all  his  friends  for  being  out  of  town,  and  wishing 
— what  an  honor! — that  Macaulay  was  in  London.  I  pre- 
served all  the  dignity  of  a  young  lady  in  an  affaire  du  cceur. 
"I  shall  not  run  after  my  lord,  I  assure  you.  If  he  wants 
me,  he  knows  where  he  may  hear  of  me."  This  nibble  is  the 
nearest  approach  to  a  dinner-party  that  I  have  had. 

Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

London,  November  1st,  1833. 

DEAR  HANNAH, — I  have  not  much  to  add  to  what  I  told 
you  yesterday ;  but  every  thing  that  I  have  to  add  looks  one 
way.  Marjoribanks  and  Wigram  have  resigned.  We  have  a 
new  chairman  and  deputy  chairman,  both  very  strongly  in  my 
favor.  Sharp,  by  whom  I  sat  yesterday  at  the  Fish-mongers' 
dinner,  told  me  that  my  old  enemy,  James  Mill,  had  spoken  to 
him  on  the  subject.  Mill  is,  as  you  have  heard,  at  the  head 
of  one  of  the  principal  departments  of  the  India  House.  The 
late  chairman  consulted  him  about  me ;  hoping,  I  suppose,  to 
have  his  support  against  me.  Mill  said,  very  handsomely,  that 
he  would  advise  the  company  to  take  me  ;  for,  as  public  men 
went,  I  was  much  above  the  average,  and,  if  they  rejected  me, 
he  thought  it  very  unlikely  that  they  would  get  any  body  so 
fit.  This  is  all  the  news  that  I  have  for  you.  It  is  not  much ; 
but  I  wish  to  keep  you  as  fully  informed  of  what  is  going  on 
as  I  am  myself. 

Old  Sharp  told  me  that  I  was  acting  quite  wisely,  but  that 
he  should  never  see  me  again  ;*  and  he  cried  as  he  said  it.  I 
encouraged  him ;  and  told  him  that  I  hoped  to  be  in  England 

*  Mr.  Sharp  died  in  1837,  before  Macaulay's  return  from  India. 


1832-'34.]  LOED  MACAULAY..  301 

again  before  the  end  of  1839,  and  that  there  was  nothing  im- 
possible in  our  meeting  again.  He  cheered  up  after  a  time ; 
told  me  that  he  should  correspond  with  me,  and  give  me  all 
the  secret  history  both  of  politics  and  of  society ;  and  prom- 
ised to  select  the  best  books,  and  send  them  regularly  to  me. 

The  Fish-mongers'  dinner  was  very  good,  but  not  so  pro- 
fusely splendid  as  I  had  expected.  There  has  been  a  change, 
I  find,  and  not  before  it  was  wanted.  They  had  got  at  one 
time  to  dining  at  ten  guineas  a  head.  They  drank  my  health, 
and  I  harangued  them  with  immense  applause.  I  talked  all 
the  evening  to  Sharp.  I  told  him  what  a  dear  sister  I  had, 
and  how  readily  she  had  agreed  to  go  with  me.  I  had  told 
Grant  the  same  in  the  morning.  Both  of  them  extolled  my 
good  fortune  in  having  such  a  companion.  Ever  yours, 

T.  B.  M. 

London,  November  — ,  1833. 

DEAR  HANNAH, — Things  stand  as  they  stood,  except  that 
the  report  of  my  appointment  is  every  day  spreading  more 
widely,  and  that  I  am  beset  by  advertising  dealers  begging 
leave  to  make  up  a  hundred  cotton  shirts  for  me,  and  fifty 
muslin  gowns  for  you,  and  by  clerks  out  of  place  begging  to 
be  my  secretaries.  I  am  not  in  very  high  spirits  to-day,  as  I 
have  just  received  a  letter  from  poor  Ellis,  to  whom  I  had 
not  communicated  my  intentions  till  yesterday.  He  writes  so 
affectionately  and  so  plaintively  that  he  quite  cuts  me  to  the 
heart.  There  are  few,  indeed,  from  whom  I  shall  part  with  so 
much  pain  ;  and  he,  poor  fellow,  says  that,  next  to  his  wife,  I 
am  the  person  for  whom  he  feels  the  most  thorough  attach- 
ment, and  in  whom  he  places  the  most  unlimited  confidence. 

On  the  llth  of  this  month  there  is  to  be  a  dinner  given  to 
Lushington  by  the  electors  of  the  Tower  Hamlets.  He  has 
persecuted  me  with  importunities  to  attend  and  make  a  speech 
for  him,  and  my  father  has  joined  in  the  request.  It  is 
enough,  in  these  times,  Heaven  knows,  for  a  man  who  repre- 
sents, as  I  do,  a  town  of  a  hundred  and  twenty  thousand  peo- 
ple, to  keep  his  own  constituents  in  good  humor ;  and  the 
Spitalfields  weavers  and  Whitechapel  butchers  are  nothing  to 


302  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  v. 

me.  But,  ever  since  I  succeeded  in  what  every  body  allows 
to  have  been  the  most  hazardous  attempt  of  the  kind  ever 
made — I  mean,  in  persuading  an  audience  of  manufacturers, 
all  Whigs  or  Radicals,  that  the  immediate  alteration  of  the 
corn  laws  was  impossible — I  have  been  considered  as  a  capital 
physician  for  desperate  cases  in  politics.  However — to  return 
from  that  delightful  theme,  my  own  praises — Lushington, 
who  is  not  very  popular  with  the  rabble  of  the  Tower  Ham- 
lets, thinks  that  an  oration  from  me  would  give  him  a  lift.  I 
could  not  refuse  him  directly,  backed  as  he  was  by  my  father. 
I  only  said  that  I  would  attend  if  I  were  in  London  on  the 
llth ;  but  I  added  that,  situated  as  I  was,  I  thought  it  very 
probable  that  I  should  be  out  of  town. 

I  shall  go  to-night  to  Miss  Berry's  soiree.  I  do  not  know 
whether  I  told  you  that  she  resented  my  article  on  Horace 
Walpole  so  much  that  Sir  Stratford  Canning  advised  me  not 
to  go  near  her.  She  was  Walpole's  greatest  favorite.  His 
"Reminiscences"  are  addressed  to  her  in  terms  of  the  most 
gallant  eulogy.  When  he  was  dying,  at  past  eighty,  he  asked 
her  to  marry  him,  merely  that  he  might  make  her  a  countess 
and  leave  her  his  fortune.  You  know  that  in  "  Yivian  Grey  " 
she  is  called  Miss  Otranto.  I  always  expected  that  my  ar- 
ticle would  put  her  into  a  passion,  and  I  was  not  mistaken  ; 
but  she  has  come  round  again,  and  sent  me  a  most  pressing 
and  kind  invitation  the  other  day. 

I  have  been  racketing  lately,  having  dined  twice  with  Rog- 
ers and  once  with  Grant.  Lady  Holland  is  in  a  most  extraor- 
dinary state.  She  came  to  Rogers's,  with  Allen,  in  so  bad 
a  humor  that  we  were  all  forced  to  rally  and  make  common 
cause  against  her.  There  was  not  a  person  at  table  to  whom 
she  was  not  rude;  and  none  of  us  were  inclined  to  submit. 
Rogers  sneered ;  Sydney  made  merciless  sport  of  her ;  Tom 
Moore  looked  excessively  impertinent ;  Bobus  put  her  down 
with  simple  straightforward  rudeness  ;  and  I  treated  her  with 
what  I  meant  to  be  the  coldest  civility.  Allen  flew  into  a 
rage  with  us  all,  and  especially  with  Sydney,  whose  guffaws, 
as  the  Scotch  say,  were  indeed  tremendous.  When  she  and 
all  the  rest  were  gone,  Rogers  made  Tom  Moore  and  me  sit 


1832-'34.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  303 

down  with  him  for  half  an  hour,  and  we  coshered  over  the 
events  of  the  evening.  Rogers  said  that  he  thought  Allen's 
firing-up  in  defense  of  his  patroness  the  best  thing  that  he  had 
seen  in  him.  No  sooner  had  Tom  and  I  got  into  the  street 
than  he  broke  forth :  "  That  such  an  old  stager  as  Rogers 
should  talk  such  nonsense,  and  give  Allen  credit  for  attach- 
ment to  any  thing  but  his  dinner !  Allen  was  bursting  with 
envy  to  see  us  so  free,  while  he  was  conscious  of  his  own 
slavery." 

Her  ladyship  has  been  the  better  for  this  discipline.  She 
has  overwhelmed  me  ever  since  with  attentions  and  invita- 
tions. I  have  at  last  found  out  the  cause  of  her  ill-humor,  or 
at  least  of  that  portion  of  it  of  which  I  was  the  object.  She 
is  in  a  rage  at  my  article  on  Walpole,  but  at  what  part  of  it 
I  can  not  tell.  I  know  that  she  is  very  intimate  with  the 
Waldegraves,  to  whom  the  manuscripts  belong,  and  for  whose 
benefit  the  letters  were  published.  But  my  review  was  sure- 
ly not  calculated  to  injure  the  sale  of  the  book.  Lord  Hol- 
land told  me,  in  an  aside,  that  he  quite  agreed  with  me,  but 
that  we  had  better  not  discuss  the  subject. 

A  note  ;  and,  by  my  life,  from  my  Lady  Holland  :  "  Dear 
Mr.  Macaulay,  pray  wrap  yourself  very  warm,  and  come  to 
us  on  Wednesday."  No,  my  good  lady.  I  am  engaged  on 
Wednesday  to  dine  at  the  Albion  Tavern  with  the  Directors 
of  the  East  India  Company — now  my  servants ;  next  week,  I 
hope,  to  be  my  masters.  Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

To  Hannah  M.  Macaiday. 

London,  November  22d,  1833. 

MY  DEAE  SISTEK, — The  decision  is  postponed  for  a  week  ; 
but  there  is  no  chance  of  an  unfavorable  result.  The  Chairs 
have  collected  the  opinions  of  their  brethren ;  and  the  result 
is,  that,  of  the  twenty-four  directors,  only  six  or  seven  at  the 
most  will  vote  against  me. 

I  dined  with  the  directors  on  Wednesday  at  the  Albion 
Tavern.  We  had  a  company  of  about  sixty  persons,  and 
many  eminent  military  men  among  them.  The  very  courte- 
ous manner  in  which  several  of  the  directors  begged  to  be 


304:  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  v. 

introduced  to  me,  and  drank  my  health  at  dinner,  led  me  to 
think  that  the  Chairs  have  not  overstated  the  feeling  of  the 
court.  One  of  them,  an  old  Indian  and  a  great  friend  of  our 
uncle,  the  general,  told  me  in  plain  words  that  he  was  glad  to 
hear  that  I  was  to  be  in  their  service.  Another,  whom  I  do 
not  even  know  by  sight,  pressed  the  chairman  to  propose  my 
health.  The  chairman  with  great  judgment  refused.  It 
would  have  been  very  awkward  to  have  had  to  make  a  speech, 
to  them  in  the  present  circumstances. 

Of  course,  my  love,  all  your  expenses,  from  the  day  of  my 
appointment,  are  my  affair.  My  present  plan,  formed  after 
conversation  with  experienced  East  Indians,  is  not  to  burden 
myself  with  an  extravagant  outfit.  I  shall  take  only  what 
will  be  necessary  for  the  voyage.  Plate,  wine,  coaches,  furni- 
ture, glass,  china,  can  be  bought  in  Calcutta  as  well  as  in  Lon- 
don. I  shall  not  have  money  enough  to  fit  myself  out  hand- 
somely with  such  things  here;  and  to  fit  myself  out  shabbi- 
ly would  be  folly.  I  reckon  that  we  can  bring  our  whole  ex- 
pense for  the  passage  within  the  £1200  allowed  by  the  com- 
pany. My  calculation  is  that  our  cabins  and  board  will  cost 
£250  apiece.  The  passage  of  our  servants  £50  apiece.  That 
makes  up  £600.  My  clothes  and  etceteras,  as  Mrs.  Meeke* 
observes,  will,  I  am  quite  sure,  come  within  £200.  Yours 
will,  of  course,  be  more.  I  will  send  you  £300  to  lay  out  as 
you  like ;  not  meaning  to  confine  you  to  it,  by  any  means ; 
but  you  would  probably  prefer  having  a  sum  down  to  send- 
ing in  your  milliner's  bills  to  me.  I  reckon  my  servant's  out- 
fit at  £50 ;  your  maid's  at  as  much  more.  The  whole  will 
be  £1200. 

One  word  about  your  maid.  You  really  must  choose  with 
great  caution.  Hitherto  the  company  has  required  that  all 
ladies  who  take  maid-servants  with  them  from  this  country 
to  India  should  give  security  to  send  them  back  within  two 
years.  The  reason  was,  that  no  class  of  people  misconducted 
themselves  so  much  in  the  East  as  female  servants  from  this 
country.  They  generally  treat  the  natives  with  gross  inso- 

*  Mrs.  Meeke  was  bis  favorite  among  bad  novel-writers.     See  page  129. 


1832-'34.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  305 

lence ;  an  insolence  natural  enough  to  people  accustomed  to 
stand  in  a  subordinate  relation  to  others  when,  for  the  first 
time,  they  find  a  great  population  placed  in  a  servile  relation 
toward  them.  Then,  too,  the  state  of  society  is  such  that  they 
are  very  likely  to  become  mistresses  of  the  wealthy  Europeans, 
and  to  flaunt  about  in  magnificent  palanquins,  bringing  dis- 
credit on  their  country  by  the  immorality  of  their  lives  and 
the  vulgarity  of  their  manners.  On  these  grounds  the  com- 
pany has  hitherto  insisted  upon  their  being  sent  back  at  the 
expense  of  those  who  take  them  out.  The  late  act  will  en- 
able your  servant  to  stay  in  India,  if  she  chooses  to  stay.  I 
hope,  therefore,  that  you  will  be  careful  in  your  selection. 
You  see  how  much  depends  upon  it.  The  happiness  and 
concord  of  our  native  household,  which  will  probably  consist 
of  sixty  or  seventy  people,  may  be  destroyed  by  her,  if  she 
should  be  ill-tempered  and  arrogant.  If  she  should  be  weak 
and  vain,  she  will  probably  form  connections  that  will  ruin 
her  morals  and  her  reputation.  I  am  no  preacher,  as  you  very 
well  know ;  but  I  have  a  strong  sense  of  the  responsibility 
under  which  we  shall  both  He  with  respect  to  a  poor  girl 
brought  by  us  into  the  midst  of  temptations  of  which  she  can 
not  be  aware,  and  which  have  turned  many  heads  that  might 
have  been  steady  enough  in  a  quiet  nursery  or  kitchen  in  En- 
gland. 

To  find  a  man  and  wife,  both  of  whom  would  suit  us, 
would  be  very  difficult ;  and  I  think  it  right,  also,  to  offer  to 
my  clerk  to  keep  him  in  my  service.  He  is  honest,  intelli- 
gent, and  respectful ;  and  as  he  is  rather  inclined  to  consump- 
tion, the  change  of  climate  would  probably  be  useful  to  him. 
I  can  not  bear  the  thought  of  throwing  any  person  who  has 
been  about  me  for  five  years,  and  with  whom  I  have  no  fault 
to  find,  out  of  bread,  while  it  is  in  my  power  to  retain  his 

services.    Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

« 

London,  December  5th,  1833. 

DEAR  LORD  LANSDOWNE, — I  delayed  returning  an  answer  to 
your  kind  letter  till  this  day,  in  order  that  I  might  be  able  to 
send  you  definitive  intelligence.  Yesterday  evening  the  di- 

VOL.  I.— 20 


306  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.V. 

rectors  appointed  me  to  a  seat  in  the  council  of  India.     The 
votes  were  nineteen  for  me,  and  three  against  me. 

I  feel  that  the  sacrifice  which  I  am  about  to  make  is  great. 
But  the  motives  which  urge  me  to  make  it  are  quite  irresisti- 
ble. Every  day  that  I  live  I  become  less  and  less  desirous  of 
great  wealth.  But  every  day  makes  me  more  sensible  of  the 
importance  of  a  competence.  Without  a  competence  it  is  not 
very  easy  for  a  public  man  to  be  honest :  it  is  almost  impos- 
sible for  him  to  be  thought  so.  I  am  so  situated  that  I  can 
subsist  only  in  two  ways :  by  being  in  office,  and  by  my  pen. 
Hitherto,  literature  has  been  merely  my  relaxation — the  amuse- 
ment of  perhaps  a  month  in  the  year.  I  have  never  consid- 
ered it  as  the  means  of  support.  I  have  chosen  my  own  top- 
ics, taken  my  own  time,  and  dictated  my  own  terms.  The 
thought  of  becoming  a  book-seller's  hack ;  of  writing  to  re- 
lieve, not  the  fullness  of  the  mind,  but  the  emptiness  of  the 
pocket ;  of  spurring  a  jaded  fancy  to  reluctant  exertion ;  of 
filling  sheets  with  trash  merely  that  the  sheets  may  be  filled ; 
of  bearing  from  publishers  and  editors  what  Dryden  bore 
from  Tonson,  and  what,  to  my  own  knowledge,  Mackintosh 
bore  from  Lardner,  is  horrible  to  me.  Yet  thus  it  must  be, 
if  I  should  quit  office.  Yet  to  hold  office  merely  for  the  sake 
of  emolument  would  be  more  horrible  still.  The  situation 
in  which  I  have  been  placed  for  some  time  back  would  have 
broken  the  spirit  of  many  men.  It  has  rather  tended  to  make 
me  the  most  mutinous  and  unmanageable  of  the  followers  of 
the  Government.  I  tendered  my  resignation  twice  during  the 
course  of  the  last  session.  I  certainly  should  not  have  done 
so  if  I  had  been  a  man  of  fortune.  You,  whom  malevolence 
itself  could  never  accuse  of  coveting  office  for  the  sake  of  pe- 
cuniary gain,  and  whom  your  salary  very  poorly  compensates 
for  the  sacrifice  of  ease  and  of  your  tastes  to  the  public  serv- 
ice, can  not  estimate  rightly  the  feelings  of  a  man  who  knows 
that  his  circumstances  lay  him  open  to  the  suspicion  of  being 
actuated  in  his  public  conduct  by  the  lowest  motives.  Once 
or  twice,  when  I  have  been  defending  unpopular  measures  in 
the  House  of  Commons,  that  thought  has  disordered  my  ideas 
and  deprived  me  of  my  presence  of  mind. 


1832-'34.]  LOED  MACAULAY.  307 

If  this  were  all,  I  should  feel  that,  for  the  sake  of  my  own 
happiness  and  of  my  public  utility,  a  few  years  would  be  well 
spent  in  obtaining  an  independence.  But  this  is  not  all.  I 
am  not  alone  in  the  world.  A  family  which  I  love  most  fond- 
ly is  dependent  on  me.  Unless  I  would  see  my  father  left  in 
his  old  age  to  the  charity  of  less  near  relations ;  my  youngest 
brother  unable  to  obtain  a  good  professional  education;  my 
sisters,  who  are  more  to  me  than  any  sisters  ever  were  to  a 
brother,  forced  to  turn  governesses  or  humble  companions,  I 
must  do  something,  I  must  make  some  effort.  An  opportuni- 
ty has  offered  itself.  It  is  in  my  power  to  make  the  last  days 
of  my  father  comfortable,  to  educate  my  brother,  to  provide 
for  my  sisters,  to  procure  a  competence  for  myself.  I  may 
hope,  by  the  time  I  am  thirty-nine  or  forty,  to  return  to  En- 
gland with  a  fortune  of  thirty  thousand  pounds.  To  me  that 
would  be  affluence.  I  never  wished  for  more. 

As  far  as  English  politics  are  concerned,  I  lose,  it  is  true,  a 
few  years.  But,  if  your  kindness  had  not  introduced  me  very 
early  to  Parliament,  if  I  had  been  left  to  climb  up  the  regu- 
lar path  of  my  profession,  and  to  rise  by  my  own  efforts — I 
should  have  had  very  little  chance  of  being  in  the  House  of 
Commons  at  forty.  If  I  have  gained  any  distinction  in  the 
eyes  of  my  countrymen,  if  I  have  acquired  any  knowledge 
of  Parliamentary  and  official  business,  and  any  habitude  for 
the  management  of  great  affairs,  I  ought  to  consider  these 
things  as  clear  gain. 

Then,  too,  the  years  of  my  absence,  though  lost,  as  far  as 
English  politics  are  concerned,  will  not,  I  hope,  be  wholly  lost 
as  respects  either  my  own  mind  or  the  happiness  of  my  fel- 
low-creatures. I  can  scarcely  conceive  a  nobler  field  than 
that  which  our  Indian  empire  now  presents  to  a  statesman. 
While  some  of  my  partial  friends  are  blaming  me  for  stoop- 
ing to  accept  a  share  in  the  government  of  that  empire,  I  am 
afraid  that  I  am  aspiring  too  high  for  my  qualifications.  I 
sometimes  feel,  I  most  unaffectedly  declare,  depressed  and  ap- 
palled by  the  immense  responsibility  which  I  have  undertaken. 
You  are  one  of  the  very  few  public  men  of  our  time  who  have 
bestowed  on  Indian  affairs  the  attention  which  they  deserve; 


308  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  v. 

and  you  will  therefore,  I  am  sure,  fully  enter  into  my  feel- 
ings. 

And  now,  dear  Lord  Lansdowne,  let  me  thank  you  most 
warmly  for  the  kind  feeling  which  has  dictated  your  letter. 
That  letter  is,  indeed,  but  a  very  small  part  of  what  I  ought 
'to  thank  you  for.  That  at  an  early  age  I  have  gained  some 
credit  in  public  life ;  that  I  have  done  some  little  service  to 
more  than  one  good  cause ;  that  I  now  have  it  in  my  power 
to  repair  the  ruined  fortunes  of  my  family,  and  to  save  those 
who  are  dearest  to  me  from  the  misery  and  humiliation  of  de- 
pendence ;  that  I  am  almost  certain,  if  I  live,  of  obtaining  a 
competence  by  honorable  means  before  I  am  past  the  full  vig- 
or of  manhood — all  this  I  owe  to  your  kindness.  I  will  say 
no  more.  I  will  only  entreat  you  to  believe  that  neither  now, 
nor  on  any  former  occasion,  have  I  ever  said  one  thousandth 
part  of  what  I  feel. 

If  it  will  not  be  inconvenient  to  you,  I  propose  to  go  to  Bo- 
wood  on  Wednesday  next.  Labouchere  will  be  my  fellow- 
traveler.  On  Saturday  we  must  both  return  to  town.  Short 
as  my  visit  must  be,  I  look  forward  to  it  with  great  pleas- 
ure. 

Believe  me  ever  yours  most  faithfully  and  affectionately, 

T.  B.  MACAULAY. 

To  Hannah  M.  Macaulay. 

London,  December  5th,  1833. 

MY  DEAE  SISTEK, — I  am  overwhelmed  with  business,  clear- 
ing off  my  work  here,  and  preparing  for  my  new  functions. 
Plans  of  ships,  and  letters  from  captains,  pour  in  without  in- 
termission. I  really  am  mobbed  with  gentlemen  begging  to 
have  the  honor  of  taking  me  to  India  at  my  own  time.  The 
fact  is,  that  a  member  of  council  is  a  great  catch,  not  merely 
on  account  of  the  high  price  which  he  directly  pays  for  ac- 
commodation, but  because  other  people  are  attracted  by  him. 
Every  father  of  a  young  writer  or  a  young  cadet  likes  to  have 
his  son  on  board  the  same  vessel  with  the  great  man,  to  dine 
at  the  same  table,  and  to  have  a  chance  of  attracting  his  no- 
tice. Every  thing  in  India  is  given  by  the  governor  in  coun- 


1632-'34.]  LOKD  MACAULAY.  309 

cil ;  and,  though  I  have  no  direct  voice  in  the  disposal  of  pa- 
tronage, my  indirect  influence  may  be  great. 

Grant's  kindness  through  all  these  negotiations  has  been 
such  as  I  really  can  not  describe.  He  told  me  yesterday, 
with  tears  in  his  eyes,  that  he  did  not  know  what  the  Board 
would  do  without  me.  I  attribute  his  feeling  partly  to  Rob- 
ert Grant's  absence ;  not  that  Robert  ever  did  me  ill  offices 
with  him — far  from  it ;  but  Grant's  is  a  mind  that  can  not 
stand  alone.  It  is — begging  your  pardon  for  my  want  of  gal- 
lantry— a  feminine  mind.  It  turns,  like  ivy,  to  some  support. 
When  Robert  is  near  him,  he  clings  to  Robert.  Robert  being 
away,  he  clings  to  me.  This  may  be  a  weakness  in  a  public 
man,  but  I  love  him  the  better  for  it. 

I  have  lately  met  Sir  James  Graham  at  dinner.  He  took 
me  aside,  and  talked  to  me  on  my  appointment  with  a 
warmth  of  kindness  which,  though  we  have  been  always  on 
good  terms,  surprised  me.  But  the  approach  of  a  long  sepa- 
ration, like  the  approach  of  death,  brings  out  all  friendly  feel- 
ings with  unusual  strength.  The  Cabinet,  he  said,  felt  the 
loss  strongly.  It  was  great  at  the  India  Board,  but  in  the 
House  of  Commons  (he  used  the  word  over  and  over)  irrepa- 
rable. They  all,  however,  he  said,  agreed  that  a  man  of  honor 
could  not  make  politics  a  profession  unless  he  had  a  compe- 
tence of  his  own,  without  exposing  himself  to  privation  of 
the  severest  kind.  They  felt  that  they  had  never  had  it  in 
their  power  to  do  all  they  wished  to  do  for  me.  They  had 
no  means  of  giving  me  a  provision  in  England,  and  they  could 
not  refuse  me  what  I  asked  in  India.  He  said  very  strongly 
that  they  all  thought  that  I  judged  quite  wisely ;  and  added 
that,  if  God  heard  his  prayers  and  spared  my  health,  I  should 
make  a  far  greater  figure  in  public  life  than  if  I  had  remained 
during  the  next  five  or  six  years  in  England. 

I  picked  up  in  a  print-shop  the  other  day  some  superb 
views  of  the  suburbs  of  Chowringhee,  and  the  villas  of  the 
Garden  Reach.  Selina  professes  that  she  is  ready  to  die  with 
envy  of  the  fine  houses  and  verandas.  I  heartily  wish  we 
were  back  again  in  a  nice  plain  brick  house,  three  windows  in 
front,  in  Cadogan  Place  or  Russell  Square,  with  twelve  or  fif- 


310  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  v. 

teen  hundred  a  year,  and  a  spare  bedroom  (we,  like  Mrs.  Nor- 
ris,*  must  always  have  a  spare  bedroom)  for  Edward  and  Mar- 
garet. Love  to  them  both.  Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

To  Macvey  Napier ',  Esq. 

London,  December  5th,  1833. 

DEAR  NAPIER, — You  are  probably  not  unprepared  for  what 
I  am  about  to  tell  you.  Yesterday  evening  the  Directors  of 
the  East  India  Company  elected  me  one  of  the  members  of 
the  Supreme  Council.  It  will,  therefore,  be  necessary  that  in 
a  few  weeks,  ten  weeks  at  furthest,  I  should  leave  this  coun- 
try for  a  few  years. 

It  would  be  mere  affectation  in  me  to  pretend  not  to  know 
that  my  support  is  of  some  importance  to  the  Edinburgh  Re- 
view. In  the  situation  in  which  I  shall  now  be  placed,  a  con- 
nection with  the  Review  will  be  of  some  importance  to  me. 
I  know  well  how  dangerous  it  is  for  a  public  man  wholly  to 
withdraw  himself  from  the  public  eye.  During  an  absence 
of  six  years,  I  run  some  risk  of  losing  most  of  the  distinction, 
literary  and  political,  which  I  have  acquired.  As  a  means  of 
keeping  myself  in  the  recollection  of  my  countrymen  during 
my  sojourn  abroad,  the  Review  will  be  invaluable  to  me  ;  nor 
do  I  foresee  that  there  will  be  the  slightest  difficulty  in  my 
continuing  to  write  for  you  at  least  as  much  as  ever.  I  have 
thought  over  my  late  articles,  and  I  really  can  scarcely  call  to 
mind  a  single  sentence  in  any  one  of  them  which  might  not 
have  been  written  at  Calcutta  as  easily  as  in  London.  Per- 
haps in  India  I  might  not  have  the  means  of  detecting  two  or 
three  of  the  false  dates  in  Croker's  Boswell ;  but  that  would 
have  been  all.  Very  little,  if  any,  of  the  effect .  of  my  most 
popular  articles  is  produced  either  by  minute  research  into 
rare  books,  or  by  allusions  to  mere  topics  of  the  day. 

I  think,  therefore,  that  we  might  easily  establish  a  com- 
merce mutually  beneficial.  I  shall  wish  to  be  supplied  with 
all  the  good  books  which  come  out  in  this  part  of  the  world. 
Indeed,  many  books  which  in  themselves  are  of  little  value, 

*  A  leading  personage  in  Miss  Austen's  "Mansfield  Park." 


1832-'34.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  311 

and  which,  if  I  were  in  England,  I  should  not  think  it  worth 
while  to  read,  will  be  interesting  to  me  in  India ;  just  as  the 
commonest  daubs  and  the  rudest  vessels  at  Pompeii  attract 
the  minute  attention  of  people  who  would  not  move  their 
eyes  to  see  a  modern  sign-post  or  a  modern  kettle.  Distance 
of  place,  like  distance  of  time,  makes  trifles  valuable. 

What  I  propose,  then,  is  that  you  should  pay  me  for  the 
articles  which  I  may  send  you  from  India,  not  in  money,  but 
in  books.  As  to  the  amount  I  make  no  stipulations.  You 
know  that  I  have  never  haggled  about  such  matters.  As  to 
the  choice  of  books,  the  mode  of  transmission,  and  other  mat- 
ters, we  shall  have  ample  time  to  discuss  them  before  my  de- 
parture. Let  me  know  whether  you  are  willing  to  make  an 
arrangement  on  this  basis. 

I  have  not  forgotten  Chatham  in  the  midst  of  my  avoca- 
tions. I  hope  to  send  you  an  article  on  him  early  next  week. 
Ever  yours  sincerely,  T.  B.  MACAULAY. 

From  the  Right  Hon.  Francis  Jeffrey  to  Macvey  Napier,  Esq. 

24  Moray  Place,  Saturday  Evening,  December  7th. 
MY  DEAR  NAPIER, — I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  the 
permission  to  read  this.  It  is  to  me,  I  will  confess,  a  solemn 
and  melancholy  announcement.  I  ought  not,  perhaps,  so  to 
consider  it.  But  I  can  not  help  it.  I  was  not  prepared  for 
six  years,  and  I  must  still  hope  that  it  will  not  be  so  much. 
At  my  age,  and  with  that  climate  for  him,  the  chances  of  our 
ever  meeting  again  are  terribly  endangered  by  such  a  term. 
He  does  not  know  the  extent  of  the  damage  which  his  seces- 
sion may  be  to  the  great  cause  of  Liberal  government.  His 
anticipations  and  offers  about  the  Iteview  are  generous  and 
pleasing,  and  must  be  peculiarly  gratifying  to  you.  I  think, 
if  you  can,  you  should  try  to  see  him  before  he  goes,  and  I 
envy  you  the  meeting.  Ever  very  faithfully  yours, 

F.  JEFFREY. 
To  Hannah  M.  Macaulay. 

London,  December  21st,  1833. 

MY  DEAR  SISTER,  —  Yesterday  I  dined  at  Boddington's. 
"VVe  had  a  very  agreeable  party :  Duncannon,  Charles  Grant, 


312  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  v. 

Sharp,  Chantrey  the  sculptor,  Bobus  Smith,  and  James  Mill. 
Mill  and  I  were  extremely  friendly,  and  I  found  him  a  very 
pleasant  companion,  and  a  man  of  more  general  information 
than  I  had  imagined. 

Bobus  was  very  amusing.  He  is  a  great  authority  on  In- 
dian matters.  He  was  during  several  years  advocate  general 
in  Bengal,  and  made  all  his  large  fortune  there.  I  asked  him 
about  the  climate.  Nothing,  he  said,  could  be  pleasanter,  ex- 
cept in  August  and  September.  He  never  eat  or  drank  so 
much  in  his  life.  Indeed,  his  looks  do  credit  to  Bengal,  for  a 
healthier  man  of  his  age  I  never  saw.  We  talked  about  ex- 
penses. "I  can  not  conceive,"  he  said,  "how  any  body  at 
Calcutta  can  live  on  less  than  £3000  a  year,  or  can  contrive 
to  spend  more  than  £4000."  We  talked  of  the  insects  and 
snakes,  and  he  said  a  thing  which  reminded  me  of  his  broth- 
er Sydney,  "Always,  sir,  manage  to  have  at  your  table  some 
fleshy,  blooming  young  writer  or  cadet,  just  come  out ;  that 
the  mosquitoes  may  stick  to  him,  and  leave  the  rest  of  the 
company  alone." 

I  have  been  with  George  Babington  to  the  Asia.  We  saw 
her  to  every  disadvantage,  all  litter  and  confusion  ;  but  she  is 
a  fine  ship,  and  our  cabins  will  be  very  good.  The  captain  I 
like  much.  He  is  an  agreeable,  intelligent,  polished  man  of 
forty ;  and  very  good  -  looking,  considering  what  storms  and 
changes  of  climate  he  has  gone  through.  He  advised  me 
strongly  to  put  little  furniture  into  our  cabins.  I  told  him  to 
have  yours  made  as  neat  as  possible,  without  regard  to  ex- 
pense. He  has  promised  to  have  it  furnished  simply,  but 
prettily ;  and  when  you  see  it,  if  any  addition  occurs  to  you,  it 
shall  be  made.  I  shall  spare  nothing  to  make  a  pretty  little 
boudoir  for  you.  You  can  not  think  how  my  friends  here 
praise  you.  You  are  quite  Sir  James  Graham's  heroine. 

To-day  I  breakfasted  with  Sharp,  whose  kindness  is  as  warm 
as  possible.  Indeed,  all  my  friends  seem  to  be  in  the  most 
amiable  mood.  I  have  twice  as  many  invitations  as  I  can  ac- 
cept, and  I  have  been  frequently  begged  to  name  my  own 
party.  Empty  as  London  is,  I  never  was  so  much  beset  with 
invitations.  Sharp  asked  me  about  you.  I  told  him  how 


1832-'34.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  313 

much  I  regretted  my  never  having  had  any  opportunity  of 
showing  you  the  best  part  of  London  society.  He  said  that 
he  would  take  care  that  you  should  see  what  was  best  worth 
seeing  before  your  departure.  He  promises  to  give  us  a  few 
breakfast  -  parties  and  dinner-parties,  where  you  will  meet  as 
many  as  he  can  muster  of  the  best  set  in  town ;  Rogers, 
Luttrell,  Rice,  Tom  Moore,  Sydney  Smith,  Grant,  and  other 
great  wits  and  politicians.  I  am  quite  delighted  at  this ;  both 
because  you  will,  I  am  sure,  be  amused  and  pleased  at  a  time 
when  you  ought  to  have  your  mind  occupied,  and  because  even 
to  have  mixed  a  little  in  a  circle  so  brilliant  will  be  of  advan- 
tage to  you  in  India.  You  have  neglected,  and  very  rightly 
and  sensibly,  frivolous  accomplishments ;  you  have  not  been 
at  places  of  fashionable  diversion ;  and  it  is,  therefore,  the 
more  desirable  that  you  should  appear  among  the  dancing,  pi- 
ano-forte-playing, opera-going  damsels  at  Calcutta  as  one  who 
has  seen  society  better  than  any  that  they  ever  approached. 
I  hope  that  you  will  not  disapprove  of  what  I  have  done.  I 
accepted  Sharp's  offer  for  you  eagerly.  Ever  yours, 

T.  B.  M. 
To  Hannah  M.  Macaulay. 

London,  January  2d,  1834. 

MY  DEAR  SISTEE, — I  am  busy  with  an  article*  for  Napier. 
I  can  not  in  the  least  tell  at  present  whether  I  shall  like  it  or 
not.  I  proceed  with  great  ease ;  and  in  general  I  have  found 
that  the  success  of  my  writings  has  been  in  proportion  to  the 
ease  with  which  they  have  been  written. 

I  had  a  most  extraordinary  scene  with  Lady  Holland.  If 
she  had  been  as  young  and  handsome  as  she  was  thirty  years 
ago,  she  would  have  turned  my  head.  She  was  quite  hyster- 
ical about  my  going ;  paid  me  such  compliments  as  I  can  not 
repeat ;  cried ;  raved ;  called  me  dear,  dear  Macaulay.  "  You 
are  sacrificed  to  your  family.  I  see  it  all.  You  are  too  good 
to  them.  They  are  always  making  a  tool  of  you  ;  last  session 
about  the  slaves ;  and  now  sending  you  to  India !"  I  always 
do  my  best  to  keep  my  temper  with  Lady  Holland,  for  three 

*  The  first  article  on  Lord  Chatham. 


314  LIFE  AND  LETTEES  OF  [CHAP.  v. 

reasons  :  because  she  is  a  woman  ;  because  she  is  very  unhap- 
py in  her  health,  and  in  the  circumstances  of  her  position ;  and 
because  she  has  a  real  kindness  for  me.  But  at  last  she  said 
something  about  you.  This  was  too  much,  and  I  was  begin- 
ning to  answer  her  in  a  voice  trembling  with  anger,  when  she 
broke  out  again :  "  I  beg  your  pardon.  Pray  forgive  me,  dear 
Macaulay.  I  was  very  impertinent.  I  know  you  will  forgive 
me.  Nobody  has  such  a  temper  as  you.  I  have  said  so  a 
hundred  tunes.  I  said  so  to  Allen  only  this  morning.  I  am 
sure  you  will  bear  with  my  weakness.  I  shall  never  see  you 
again ;"  and  she  cried,  and  I  cooled ;  for  it  would  have  been 
to  very  little  purpose  to  be  angry  with  her.  I  hear  that  it  is 
not  to  me  alone  that  she  runs  on  in  this  way.  She  storms  at 
the  ministers  for  letting  me  go.  I  was  told  that  at  one  din- 
ner she  became  so  violent  that  even  Lord  Holland,  whose  tem- 
per, whatever  his  wife  may  say,  is  much  cooler  than  mine, 
could  not  command  himself,  and  broke  out :  "  Don't  talk  such 
nonsense,  my  lady.  What,  the  devil !  Can  we  tell  a  gentle- 
man who  has  a  claim  upon  us  that  he  must  lose  his  only  chance 
of  getting  an  independence  in  order  that  he  may  come  and 
talk  to  you  in  an  evening  ?" 

Good-bye,  and  take  care  not  to  become  so  fond  of  your  own 
will  as  my  lady.  It  is  now  my  duty  to  omit  no  opportuni- 
ty of  giving  you  wholesome  advice.  I  am  henceforward  your 
sole  guardian.  I  have  bought  Gisborne's  "  Duties  of  "Women," 
Moore's  "  Fables  for  the  Female  Sex,"  Mrs.  King's  "  Female 
Scripture  Characters,"  and  Fordyce's  Sermons.  With  the 
help  of  these  books  I  hope  to  keep  my  responsibility  in  order 
on  our  voyage,  and  in  India.  Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

To  Hannah  M.  Macaulay. 

London,  January  4th,  1834. 

MY  DEAK  SISTER, — I  am  now  buying  books;  not  trashy 
books  which  will  only  bear  one  reading,  but  good  books  for  a 
library.  I  have  my  eye  on  all  the  book-stalls ;  and  I  shall  no 
longer  suffer  you,  when  we  walk  together  in  London,  to  drag 
me  past  them  as  you  used  to  do.  Pray  make  out  a  list  of  any 
which  you  would  like  to  have.  The  provision  which  I  design 


1832-'34.]  LOED  MACAULAY.  315 

for  the  voyage  is  Richardson,  Voltaire's  works,  Gibbon,  Sis- 
mondi's  "History  of  the  French,"  "Davila,"  "The  Orlando" 
in  Italian,  "  Don  Quixote  "  in  Spanish,  Homer  in  Greek,  Hor- 
ace in  Latin.  I  must  also  have  some  books  of  jurisprudence, 
and  some  to  initiate  me  in  Persian  and  Hindoostanee.  Shall 
I  buy  "Dunallan"  for  you?  I  believe  that  in  your  eyes  it 
would  stand  in  the  place  of  all  the  rest  together.  But,  seri- 
ously, let  me  know  what  you  would  like  me  to  procure. 

Ellis  is  making  a  little  collection  of  Greek  classics  for  me. 
Sharpe  has  given  me  one  or  two  very  rare  and  pretty  books, 
which  I  much  wanted.  All  the  Edinburgh  Reviews  are  being 
bound,  so  that  we  shall  have  a  complete  set  up  to  the  forth- 
coming number,  which  will  contain  an  article  of  mine  on 
Chatham.  And  this  reminds  me  that  I  must  give  over  writ- 
ing to  you,  and  fall  to  my  article.  I  rather  think  that  it  will 
be  a  good  one.  Ever  yours,  T.  B.  M. 

London,  February  13th,  1834. 

DEAR  NAPIEK, — It  is  true  that  I  have  been  severely  tried 
by  ill-health  during  the  last  few  weeks ;  but  I  am  now  rapid- 
ly recovering,  and  am  assured  by  all  my  medical  advisers  that 
a  week  of  the  sea  will  make  me  better  than  ever  I  was  in  my 
life. 

I  have  several  subjects  in  my  head.  One  is  Mackintosh's 
"  History ;"  I  mean  the  fragment  of  the  large  work.  Another 
plan  which  I  have  is  a  very  fine  one,  if  it  could  be  well  ex- 
ecuted. I  think  that  the  time  is  come  when  a  fair  estimate 
may  be  formed  of  the  intellectual  and  moral  character  of  Yol- 
taire.  The  extreme  veneration  with  which  he  was  regarded 
during  his  life -time  has  passed  away;  the  violent  reaction 
which  followed  has  spent  itself ;  and  the  world  can  now,  I 
think,  bear  to  hear  the  truth,  and  to  see  the  man  exhibited  as 
he  was — a  strange  mixture  of  greatness  and  littleness,  virtues 
and  vices.  I  have  all  his  works,  and  shall  take  them  in  my 
cabin  on  the  voyage.  But  my  library  is  not  particularly  rich 
in  those  books  which  illustrate  the  literary  history  of  his  times. 
I  have  Rousseau  and  Marmontel's  "  Memoirs,"  and  Madame 
du  Demand's  "  Letters,"  and  perhaps  a  few  other  works  which 


316  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  v. 

would  be  of  use.  But  Grimm's  "  Correspondence,"  and  sever- 
al other  volumes  of  memoirs  and  letters,  would  be  necessary. 
If  you  would  make  a  small  collection  of  the  works  which  would 
be  most  useful  in  this  point  of  view,  and  send  it  after  me  as 
soon  as  possible,  I  will  do  my  best  to  draw  a  good  Yoltaire. 
I  fear  that  the  article  must  be  enormously  long — seventy  pages, 
perhaps;  but  you  know  that  I  do  not  run  into  unnecessary 
lengths. 

I  may  perhaps  try  my  hand  on  Miss  Austen's  novels. 
That  is  a  subject  on  which  I  shall  require  no  assistance  from 
books. 

Whatever  volumes  you  may  send  me  ought  to  be  half- 
bound  ;  or  the  white  ants  will  devour  them  before  they  have 
been  three  days  on  shore.  Besides  the  books  which  may  be 
necessary  for  the  Review,  I  should  like  to  have  any  work 
of  very  striking  merit  which  may  appear  during  my  absence. 
The  particular  department  of  literature  which  interests  me 
most  is  history ;  above  all,  English  history.  Any  valuable 
book  on  that  subject  I  should  wish  to  possess.  Sharp,  Miss 
Berry,  and  some  of  my  other  friends,  will  perhaps,  now  and 
then,  suggest  a  book  to  you.  But  it  is  principally  on  your  own 
judgment  that  I  must  rely  to  keep  me  well  supplied. 

Yours  most  truly,  T.  B.  MACAFLAY. 

On  the  4th  of  February  Macaulay  bid  farewell  to  his  elect- 
ors, in  an  address  which  the  Leeds  Tories  probably  thought 
too  high-flown*  for  the  occasion.  But  he  had  not  yet  done 

*  "  If,  now  that  I  have  ceased  to  be  your  servant,  and  ain  only  your  sin- 
cere and  grateful  friend,  I  may  presume  to  offer  you  advice  which  must, 
at  least,  be  allowed  to  be  disinterested,  I  would  say  to  you :  Act  toward 
your  future  representatives  as  you  have  acted  toward  me.  Choose  them, 
as  you  chose  me,  without  canvassing  and  without  expense.  Encourage 
them,  as  you  encouraged  me,  always  to  speak  to  you  fearlessly  and  plain- 
ly. Reject,  as  you  have  hitherto  rejected,  the  wages  of  dishonor.  Defy, 
as  yon  have  hitherto  defied,  the  threats  of  petty  tyrants.  Never  forget 
that  the  worst  and  most  degrading  species  of  corruption  is  the  corruption 
which  operates,  not  by  hopes,  but  by  fears.  Cherish  those  noble  and  virt- 
uous principles  for  which  we  have  struggled  and  triumphed  together — 
the  principles  of  liberty  and  toleration,  of  justice  and  order.  Support,  as 


1832-'34.]  LOED  MACAULAY. 

with  the  House  of  Commons.  Parliament  met  on  the  first 
Tuesday  in  the  month ;  and,  on  the  "Wednesday,  O'Connell, 
who  had  already  contrived  to  make  two  speeches  since  the 
session  began,  rose  for  a  third  time  to  call  attention  to  words 
uttered  during  the  recess  by  Mr.  Hill,  the  member  for  Hull. 
That  gentleman,  for  want  of  something  better  to  say  to  his 
constituents,  had  told  them  that  he  happened  to  know  "  that 
an  Irish  member,  who  spoke  with  great  violence  against  every 
part  of  the  Coercion  Bill,  and  voted  against  every  clause  of 
it,  went  to  ministers  and  said, '  Don't  bate  a  single  atom  of 
that  bill,  or  it  will  be  impossible  for  any  man  to  live  in  Ire- 
land.' "  O'Connell  called  upon  Lord  Althorp,  as  the  repre- 
sentative of  the  Government,  to  say  what  truth  there  was  in 
this  statement.  Lord  Althorp,  taken  by  surprise,  acted  upon 
the  impulse  of  the  moment,  which  in  his  case  was  a  feeling  of 
reluctance  to  throw  over  poor  Mr.  Hill  to  be  bullied  by  O'Con- 
nell and  his  redoubtable  tail.  After  explaining  that  no  set 
and  deliberate  communication  of  the  nature  mentioned  had 
been  made  to  the  ministers,  his  lordship  went  on  to  say  that 
he  "  should  not  act  properly  if  he  did  not  declare  that  he  had 
good  reason  to  believe  that  some  Irish  members  did,  in  pri- 
vate conversation,  use  very  different  language"  from  what 
they  had  employed  in  public. 

It  was  chivalrously,  but  most  unwisely,  spoken.  O'Connell 
at  once  gave  the  cue  by  inquiring  whether  he  himself  was 
among  the  members  referred  to,  and  Lord  Althorp  assured 
him  that  such  was  not  the  case.  The  Speaker  tried  to  inter- 
fere ;  but  the  matter  had  gone  too  far.  One  Irish  representa- 
tive after  another  jumped  up  to  repeat  the  same  question 
with  regard  to  his  own  case,  and  received  the  same  answer. 
At  length  Sheil  rose,  and  asked  whether  he  was  one  of  the 

you  have  steadily  supported,  the  cause  of  good  government ;  and  may  all 
the  blessings  which  are  the  natural  fruits  of  good  government  descend 
upon  you  and  be  multiplied  to  you  a  hundred -fold!  May  your  manu- 
factures flourish;  may  your  trade  be  extended;  may  your  riches  increase! 
May  the  works  of  your  skill,  and  the  signs  of  your  prosperity,  meet  me  in 
the  farthest  regions  of  the  East,  and  give  me  fresh  cause  to  be  proud  of  tho 
intelligence,  the  industry,  and  the  spirit  of  my  constituents !" 


318  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  v. 

members  to  whom  the  noble  lord  had  alluded.  Lord  Althorp 
replied:  "Yes.  The  honorable  and  learned  gentleman  is 
one."  Sheil,  "  in  the  face  of  his  country,  and  the  presence  of 
his  God,"  asserted  that  the  individual  who  had  given  any  such 
information  to  the  noble  lord  was  guilty  of  a  "gross  and 
scandalous  calumny,"  and  added  that  he  understood  the  no- 
ble lord  to  have  made  himself  responsible  for  the  imputation. 
Then  ensued  one  of  those  scenes  in  which  the  House  of  Com- 
mons appears  at  its  very  worst.  All  the  busy-bodies,  as  their 
manner  is,  rushed  to  the  front ;  and  hour  after  hour  slipped 
away  in  an  unseemly,  intricate,  and  apparently  interminable 
wrangle.  Sheil  was  duly  called  upon  to  give  an  assurance 
that  the  affair  should  not  be  carried  beyond  the  walls  of  the 
House.  He  refused  to  comply,  and  was  committed  to  the 
charge  of  the  sergeant -at -arms.  The  Speaker  then  turned 
to  Lord  Althorp,  who  promised,  in  Parliamentary  language, 
not  to  send  a  challenge.  Upon  this,  as  is  graphically  enough 
described  in  the  conventional  terms  of  Hansard,  "  Mr.  O'Con- 
nell  made  some  observation  to  the  honorable  member  sitting 
next  him  which  was  not  heard  in  the  body  of  the  House. 
Lord  Althorp  immediately  rose,  and  amidst  loud  cheers,  and 
with  considerable  warmth,  demanded  to  know  what  the  hon- 
orable and  learned  gentleman  meant  by  his  gesticulation  ;" 
and  then,  after  an  explanation  from  O'Connell,  his  lordship 
went  on  to  use  phrases  which  very  clearly  signified  that, 
though  he  had  no  cause  for  sending  a  challenge,  he  had  just 
as  little  intention  of  declining  one ;  upon  which  he  likewise 
was  made  over  to  the  sergeant.  Before,  however,  honorable 
members  went  to  their  dinners,  they  had  the  relief  of  learning 
that  their  refractory  colleagues  had  submitted  to  the  Speaker's 
authority,  and  had  been  discharged  from  custody. 

There  was  only  one  way  out  of  the  difficulty.  On  the  10th 
of  February  a  committee  of  investigation  was  appointed,  com- 
posed of  members  who  enjoyed  a  special  reputation  for  dis- 
cretion. iMr.  Hill  called  his  witnesses.  The  first  had  nothing 
relevant  to  tell.  Macaulay  was  the  second  ;  and  he  forthwith 
cut  the  matter  short  by  declaring  that,  on  principle,  he  refused 
to  disclose  what  had  passed  in  private  conversation :  a  senti- 


1832-'34.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  319 

ment  which  was  actually  cheered  by  the  committee.  One 
sentence  of  common  sense  brought  the  absurd  embroilment 
to  a  rational  conclusion.  Mr.  Hill  saw  his  mistake ;  begged 
that  no  further  evidence  might  be  taken  ;  and,  at  the  next  sit- 
ting of  the  House,  withdrew  his  charge  in  unqualified  terms 
of  self-abasement  and  remorse.  Lord  Althorp  readily  admit- 
ted that  he  had  acted  "  imprudently  as  a  man,  and  still  more 
imprudently  as  a  minister,"  and  stated  that  he  considered  him- 
self bound  to  accept  Shell's  denial ;  but  he  could  not  manage 
so  to  frame  his  remarks  as  to  convey  to  his  hearers  the  idea 
that  his  opinion  of  that  honorable  gentleman  had  been  raised 
by  the  transaction.  Sheil  acknowledged  the  two  apologies 
with  effusion  proportioned  to  their  respective  value ;  and  so 
ended  an  affair  which,  at  the  worst,  had  evoked  a  fresh  proof 
of  that  ingrained  sincerity  of  character  for  the  sake  of  which 
his  party  would  have  followed  Lord  Althorp  to  the  death.* 

Gravesend,  February  15th,  1834. 

DEAE  LOKD  LANSDOWNE, — I  had  hoped  that  it  would  have 
been  in  my  power  to  shake  hands  with  you  once  more  before 
my  departure ;  but  this  deplorably  absurd  affair  in  the  House 
of  Commons  has  prevented  me  from  calling  on  you.  I  lost 
a  whole  day  while  the  committee  were  deciding  whether  I 
should  or  should  not  be  forced  to  repeat  all  the  foolish,  shab- 
by things  that  I  had  heard  Sheil  say  at  Brooks's. 

I  can  not  leave  England  without  sending  a  few  lines  to  you, 
and  yet  they  are  needless.  It  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  say 
with  what  feelings  I  shall  always  remember  our  connection, 
and  with  what  interest  I  shall  always  learn  tidings  of  you  and 
of  your  family. 

Yours  most  sincerely,  T.  B.  MACAULAY. 

*  In  Macaulay's  journal  for  June  3d,  1851,  we  read :  "I  went  to  break- 
fast with  the  Bishop  of  Oxford,  and  there  learned  that  Sheil  was  dead. 
Poor  fellow  !  We  talked  about  Sheil,  and  I  related  my  adventure  of  Feb- 
ruary, 1834.  Odd  that  it  should  have  been  so  little  known,  or  so  complete- 
ly forgotten !  Every  body  thought  me  right,  as  I  certainly  was." 


320  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  vi. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

1834-1838. 

The  Outward  Voyage. — Arrival  at  Madras. — Macaulay  is  summoned  to 
join  Lord  William  Bentinck  in  the  Neilgherries. — His  Journey  Up-coun- 
try.— His  Native  Servant. — Arcot. — Bangalore. — Seringapatam. — As- 
cent of  the  Neilgherries. — First  Sight  of  the  Governor-general. — Letters 
to  Mr.  Ellis  and  the  Miss  Macaulays. — A  Summer  on  the  Neilgherries. — 
Native  Christians. — Clarissa. — A  Tragi-comedy. — Macaulay  leaves  the 
Neilgherries,  travels  to  Calcutta,  and  there  sets  up  House. — Letters  to 
Mr.  Napier  and  Mrs.  Cropper.  —  Mr.  Trevelyan. — Marriage  of  Hannah 
Macaulay. — Death  of  Mrs.  Cropper. — Macaulay's  Work  in  India. — His 
Minutes  for  Council. — Freedom  of  the  Press. — Literary  Gratitude. — 
Second  Minute  on  the  Freedom  of  the  Press. — The  Black  Act. — A  Cal- 
cutta Puhlic  Meeting. — Macaulay's  Defense  of  the  Policy  of  the  Indian 
Government. — His  Minute  on  Education. — He  becomes  President  of  the 
Committee  of  Public  Instruction. — His  Industry  in  discharging  the  Func- 
tions of  that  Post. — Specimens  of  his  Official  Writing. — Results  of  his 
Labors. — He  is  appointed  President  of  the  Law  Commission,  and  recom- 
mends the  Framing  of  a  Criminal  Code. — Appearance  of  the  Code. — 
Comments  of  Mr.  Fitzjames  Stephen. — Macaulay's  Private  Life  in  India. 
— Oriental  Delicacies. — Breakfast-parties. — Macaulay's  Longing  for  En- 
gland.— Calcutta  and  Dublin. — Departure  from  India. — Letters  to  Mr. 
Ellis,  Mr.  Sharp,  Mr.  Napier,  and  Mr.  Z.  Macaulay. 

FKOM  the  moment  that  a  deputation  of  Falmouth  Whigs, 
headed  by  their  mayor,  came  on  board  to  wish  Macaulay  his 
health  in  India  and  a  happy  return  to  England,  nothing  oc- 
curred that  broke  the  monotony  of  an  easy  and  rapid  voyage. 
"  The  catching  of  a  shark ;  the  shooting  of  an  albatross ;  a 
sailor  tumbling  down  the  hatchway  and  breaking  his  head ;  a 
cadet  getting  drunk  and  swearing  at  the  captain,"  are  incidents 
to  which  not  even  the  highest  literary  power  can  impart  the 
charm  of  novelty  in  the  eyes  of  the  readers  of  a  sea-faring  na- 
tion. The  company  on  the  quarter-deck  was  much  on  a  level 
with  the  average  society  of  an  East  Indiaman.  "Hannah  will 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  321 

give  you  the  histories  of  all  these  good  people  at  length,  I  dare 
say,  for  she  was  extremely  social :  danced  with  the  gentlemen 
in  the  evenings,  and  read  novels  and  sermons  with  the  ladies 
in  the  mornings.  I  contented  myself  with  being  very. civil 
whenever  I  was  with  the  other  passengers,  and  took  care  to 
be  with  them  as  little  as  I  could.  Except  at  meals,  I  hardly 
exchanged  a  word  with  any  human  being.  I  never  was  left 
for  so  long  a  time  so  completely  to  my  own  resources ;  and 
I  am  glad  to  say  that  I  found  them  quite  sufficient  to  keep 
me  cheerful  and  employed.  During  the  whole  voyage  I  read 
with  keen  and  increasing  enjoyment.  I  devoured  Greek,  Lat- 
in, Spanish,  Italian,  French,  and  English ;  folios,  quartos,  octa- 
vos, and  duodecimos." 

On  the  10th  of  June  the  vessel  lay  to  off  Madras;  and 
Macaulay  had  his  first  introduction  to  the  people  for  whom 
he  was  appointed  to  legislate,  in  the  person  of  a  boatman  who 
pulled  through  the  surf  on  his  raft.  "He  came  on  board 
with  nothing  on  him  but  a  pointed  yellow  cap,  and  walked 
among  us  with  a  self-possession  and  civility  which,  coupled 
with  his  color  and  his  nakedness,  nearly  made  me  die  of  laugh- 
ing." This  gentleman  was  soon  followed  by  more  responsi- 
ble messengers,  who  brought  tidings  the  reverse  of  welcome. 
Lord  William  Bentinck,  who  was  then  governor-general,  was 
detained  by  ill-health  at  Ootacamund,  in  the  Neilgherry  Hills ; 
a  place  which,  by  name  at  least,  is  now  as  f amiliar  to  English- 
men as  Malvern ;  but  which  in  1834  was  known  to  Macaulay, 
by  vague  report,  as  situated  somewhere  "  in  the  mountains  of 
Malabar,  beyond  Mysore."  The  state  of  public  business  ren- 
dered it  necessary  that  the  council  should  meet ;  and,  as  the 
governor-general  had  left  one  member  of  that  body  in  Bengal 
as  his  deputy,  he  was  not  able  to  make  a  quorum  until  his 
new  colleague  arrived  from  England.  A  pressing  summons 
to  attend  his  lordship  in  the  Hills  placed  Macaulay  in  some 
embarrassment  on  account  of  his  sister,  who  could  not  with 
safety  commence  her  Eastern  experiences  by  a  journey  of 
four  hundred  miles  up  the  country  in  the  middle  of  June. 
Happily  the  second  letter  which  he  opened  proved  to  be  from 
Bishop  Wilson ;  who  insisted  that  the  son  and  daughter  of  so 

YOL.  I.— 21 


LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  vi. 

eminent  an  Evangelical  as  the  editor  of  the  Christian  Ob- 
server, themselves  part  of  his  old  congregation  in  Bedford 
Row,  should  begin  their  Indian  life  nowhere  except  under  his 
roof.  Hannah,  accordingly,  continued  her  voyage,  and  made 
her  appearance  in  Calcutta  circles  with  the  Bishop's  palace 
as  a  home,  and  Lady  William  Bentinck  as  a  kind,  and  soon  an 
affectionate,  chaperon ;  while  her  brother  remained  on  shore 
at  Madras,  somewhat  consoled  for  the  separation  by  finding 
himself  in  a  country  where  so  much  was  to  be  seen,  and 
where,  as  far  as  the  English  residents  were  concerned,  he  was 
regarded  with  a  curiosity  at  least  equal  to  his  own. 

During  the  first  few  weeks  nothing  came  amiss  to  him. 
"  To  be  on  land  after  three  months  at  sea  is  of  itself  a  great 
change.  But  to  be  in  such  a  land!  The  dark  faces  with 
white  turbans  and  flowing  robes :  the  trees  not  our  trees :  the 
very  smell  of  the  atmosphere  that  of  a  hot-house,  and  the  ar- 
chitecture as  strange  as  the  vegetation."  Every  feature  in 
that  marvelous  scene  delighted  him,  both  in  itself  and  for  the 
sake  of  the  innumerable  associations  and  images  which  it  con- 
jured up  in  his  active  and  well-stored  mind.  The  salute  of 
fifteen  guns  that  greeted  him  as  he  set  his  foot  on  the  beach 
reminded  him  that  he  was  in  a  region  where  his  countrymen 
could  exist  only  on  the  condition  of  their  being  warriors  and 
rulers.  When  on  a  visit  of  ceremony  to  a  dispossessed  rajah 
or  nabob,  he  pleased  himself  with  the  reflection  that  he  was 
face  to  face  with  a  prince  who  in  old  days  governed  a  province 
as  large  as  a  first-class  European  kingdom,  conceding  to  his 
suzerain,  the  mogul,  no  tribute  beyond  "  a  little  outward  re- 
spect such  as  the  great  Dukes  of  Burgundy  used  to  pay  to  the 
Kings  of  France;  and  who  now  enjoyed  the  splendid  and 
luxurious  insignificance  of  an  abdicated  prince  which  fell  to 
the  lot  of  Charles  the  Fifth,  or  Queen  Christina  of  Sweden," 
with  a  court  that  preserved  the  forms  of  royalty,  the  right  of 
keeping  as  many  badly  armed  and  worse  paid  ragamuffins  as 
he  could  retain  under  his  tawdry  standard,  and  the  privilege 
of  "  occasionally  sending  letters  of  condolence  and  congratu- 
lation to  the  King  of  England,  in  which  he  calls  himself  his 
majesty's  good  brother  and  ally." 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  323 

Macaulay  set  forth  on  his  journey  within  a  week  from  his 
landing,  traveling  by  night,  and  resting  while  the  sun  was  at 
its  hottest.  He  has  recorded  his  first  impressions  of  Hindoo- 
stan  in  a  series  of  journal  letters  addressed  to  his  sister  Mar- 
garet. The  fresh  and  vivid  character  of  those  impressions, 
the  genuine  and  multif  orm  interest  excited  in  him  by  all  that 
met  his  ear  or  eye,  explain  the  secret  of  the  charm  which  en- 
abled him  in  after-days  to  overcome  the  distaste  for  Indian 
literature  entertained  by  that  personage  who,  for  want  of  a 
better,  goes  by  the  name  of  the  general  reader.  Macaulay  re- 
versed in  his  own  case  the  experience  of  those  countless  writ- 
ers on  Indian  themes  who  have  successively  blunted  their 
pens  against  the  passive  indifference  of  the  British  public; 
for  his  faithful  but  brilliant  studies  of  the  history  of  our  East- 
ern empire  are  to  this  day  incomparably  the  most  popular* 
of  his  works.  It  may  be  possible,  without  injury  to  the  fame 
of  the  author,  to  present  a  few  extracts  from  a  correspond- 
ence which  is  in  some  sort  the  raw  material  of  productions 
that  have  already  secured  their  place  among  our  national 
classics. 

"la  the  afternoon  of  the  17th  of  June  I  left  Madras.  My  train  consisted 
of  thirty-eight  persons.  I  was  in  one  palanquin,  and  my  servant  followed 
in  another.  He  is  a  half-caste.  On  the  day  on  which  we  set  out  he  told 
me  he  was  a  Catholic;  and  added,  crossing  himself  and  turning  up  the 
whites  of  his  eyes,  that  he  had  recommended  himself  to  the  protection  of 
his  patron  saint,  and  that  he  was  quite  confident  that  we  should  perform 
our  journey  in  safety.  I  thought  of  Amhrose  Llamela,  Gil  Bias's  devout 

*  When  published  in  a  separate  form,  the  articles  on  Lord  Clive  and 
Warren  Hastings  have  sold  nearly  twice  as  well  as  the  articles  on  Lord 
Chatham,  nearly  thrice  as  well  as  the  article  on  Addison,  and  nearly  five 
times  as  well  as  the  article  on  Byron.  The  great  Sepoy  mntiuy,  while  it 
something  more  than  doubled  the  sale  of  the  essay  on  Warren  Hastings,  all 
but  trebled  the  sale  of  the  essay  on  Lord  Clive ;  but,  taking  the  last  twen- 
ty years  together,  there  has  been  little  to  choose  between  the  pair.  The 
steadiness  and  permanence  of  the  favor  with  which  they  are  regarded  may 
be  estimated  by  the  fact  that,  during  the  five  years  between  1870  and  1874, 
as  compared  with  the  five  years  between  1865  and  1869,  the  demand  for 
them  has  been  in  the  proportion  of  seven  to  three ;  and,  as  compared  with 
the  five  years  between  1860  and  1864,  in  the  proportion  of  three  to  one. 


324:  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  vi. 

valet,  \vho  arranges  a  scheme  for  robbing  his  master  of  his  portmanteau, 
and,  when  he  comes  back  from  meeting  his  accomplices,  pretends  that  he 
has  been  to  the  cathedral  to  implore  a  blessing  on  their  voyage.  I  did 
him,  however,  a  great  injustice;  for  I  have  found  him  a  very  honest  man, 
who  knows  the  native  languages ;  and  who  can  dispute  a  charge,  bully 
a  negligent  bearer,  arrange  a  bed,  and  make  a  curry.  But  he  is  so  fond 
of  giving  advice  that  I  fear  he  will  some  day  or  other,  as  the  Scotch  say, 
raise  my  corruption,  and  provoke  me  to  send  him  about  his  business.  His 
name,  which  I  never  hear  without  laughing,  is  Peter  Prim. 

"  Half  my  journey  was  by  daylight,  and  all  that  I  saw  during  that  time 
disappointed  me  grievously.  It  is  amazing  how  small  a  part  of  the  coun- 
try is  under  cultivation.  Two-thirds  at  least,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  was  in 
the  state  of  Wandsworth  Common,  or,  to  use  an  illustration  which  you 
will  understand  better,  of  Chatmoss.  The  people  whom  we  met  were  as 
few  as  in  the  Highlands  of  Scotland.  But  I  have  been  told  that  in  India 
the  villages  generally  lie  at  a  distance  from  the  roads,  and  that  much  of 
the  land,  which  when  I  passed  through  it  looked  like  parched  moor  that 
had  never  been  cultivated,  would  after  the  rains  be  covered  with  rice." 

After  traversing  this  landscape  for  fifteen  hours,  he  reached 
the  town  of  Arcot,  which,  under  his  handling,  was  to  be  cele- 
brated far  and  wide  as  the  cradle  of  our  greatness  in  the  East. 

"I  was  most  hospitably  received  by  Captain  Smith,  who  commanded 
the  garrison.  After  dinner  the  palanquins  went  forward  with  my  serv- 
ant, and  the  captain  and  I  took  a  ride  to  see  the  lions  of  the  neighborhood. 
He  mounted  me  on  a  very  quiet  Arab,  and  I  had  a  pleasant  excursion. 
We  passed  through  a  garden  which  was  attached  to  the  residence  of  the 
Nabob  of  the  Carnatic,  who  anciently  held  his  court  at  Arcot.  The  gar- 
den has  been  suffered  to  run  to  waste,  and  is  only  the  more  beautiful 
for  having  been  neglected.  Garden,  indeed,  is  hardly  a  proper  word.  In 
England  it  would  rank  as  one  of  our  noblest  parks,  from  which  it  differs 
principally  in  this,  that  most  of  the  fine  trees  are  fruit-trees.  From  this 
we  came  to  a  mountain  pass  which  reminded  me  strongly  of  Borradaile 
near  Derwentwater,  and  through  this  defile  we  struck  into  the  road  and 
rejoined  the  bearers." 

And  so  he  went  forward  on  his  way,  recalling  at  every 
step  the  reminiscence  of  some  place,  or  event,  or  person  ; 
and  thereby  doubling  for  himself,  and  perhaps  for  his  corre- 
spondent, the  pleasure  which  the  reality  was  capable  of  afford- 
ing. If  he  put  up  at  a  collector's  bungalow,  he  liked  to  think 
that  his  host  ruled  more  absolutely  and  over  a  larger  popula- 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  325 

tion  than  "  a  Duke  of  Saxe-Weimar  or  a  Duke  of  Lucca ;" 
and  when  he  came  across  a  military  man  with  a  turn  for  read- 
ing, he  pronounced  him,  "  as  Dominie  Sampson  said  of  an- 
other Indian  colonel,  '  a  man  of  great  erudition,  considering 
his  imperfect  opportunities.' " 

On  the  19th  of  June  he  crossed  the  frontier  of  Mysore, 
reached  Bangalore  on  the  morning  of  the  20th,  and  rested 
there  for  three  days  in  the  house  of  the  commandant. 

"  On  Monday,  the  23d,  I  took  leave  of  Colonel  Ctibbon,  who  told  me, 
with  a  warmth  which  I  was  vain  enough  to  think  sincere,  that  he  had  not 
passed-  three  such  pleasant  days  for  thirty  years.  I  went  on  all  night, 
sleeping  soundly  in  my  palanquin.  At  five  I  was  waked,  and  found  that 
a,  carriage  was  waiting  for  me.  I  had  told  Colonel  Cubbon  that  I  very 
much  wished  to  see  Seringapatain.  He  had  written  to  the  British  author- 
ities at  the  town  of  Mysore,  and  an  officer  had  come  from  the  Residency  to 
show  me  all  that  was  to  be  seen.  I  must  now  digress  into  Indian  politics ; 
and  let  me  tell  you  that,  if  you  read  the  little  that  I  shall  say  about  them, 
you  will  know  more  on  the  subject  than  half  the  members  of  the  Cabinet." 

After  a  few  pages  occupied  by  a  sketch  of  the  history  of 
Mysore  during  the  preceding  century,  Macanlay  proceeds : 

"  Seringapatam  has  always  been  a  place  of  peculiar  interest  to  me.  It 
was  the  scene  of  the  greatest  events  of  Indian  history.  It  was  the  resi- 
dence of  the  greatest  of  Indian  princes.  From  a  child  I  used  to  hear  it 
talked  of  every  day.  Our  uncle  Colin  was  imprisoned  there  for  four  years, 
and  he  was  afterward  distinguished  at  the  siege.  I  remembef  that  there 
Avas,  in  a  shop-window  at  Clapham,  a  daub  of  the  taking  of  Seringapatam, 
which,  as  a  boy,  I  often  used  to  stare  at  with  the  greatest  interest.  I  was 
delighted  to  have  an  opportunity  of  seeing  the  place;  and,  though  my  ex- 
pectations were  high,  they  were  not  disappointed. 

"The  town  is  depopulated;  but  the  fortress,  which  was  one  of  the 
strongest  in  India,  remains  entire.  A  river  almost  as  broad  as  the  Thames 
at  Chelsea  breaks  into  two  branches,  and  surrounds  the  walls,  above  which 
are  seen  the  white  minarets  of  a  mosque.  We  entered,  and  found  every 
thing  silent  and  desolate.  The  mosque,  indeed,  is  still  kept  up,  and  de- 
serves to  be  so ;  but  the  palace  of  Tippoo  has  fallen  into  utter  ruin.  I 
saw,  however,  with  no  small  interest,  the  air-holes  of  the  dungeon  in  which 
the  English  prisoners  were  confined,  and  the  water-gate  leading  down  to 
the  river  where  the  body  of  Tippoo  was  found  still  warm  by  the  Duke  of 
Wellington,  then  Colonel  Wellesley.  The  exact  spot  through  which  the 
English  soldiers  fought  their  way  against  desperate  disadvantages  into 


326  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  vi. 

the  fort  is  still  perfectly  discernible.  But,  though  only  thirty-five  years 
have  elapsed  since  the  fall  of  the  city,  the  palace  is  in  the  condition  of 
Tintern  Abbey  and  Melrose  Abbey.  The  courts,  which  bear  a  great  resem- 
blance to  those  of  the  Oxford  colleges,  are  completely  overrun  with  weeds 
and  flowers.  The  Hall  of  Audience,  once  considered  the  finest  in  India, 
still  retains  some  very  faint  traces  of  its  old  magnificence.  It  is  supported 
on  a  great  number  of  light  and  lofty  wooden  pillars,  resting  on  pedestals 
of  black  granite.  These  pillars  were  formerly  covered  with  gilding,  and 
here  and  there  the  glitter  may  still  be  perceived.  In  a  few  more  years  not 
the  smallest  trace  of  this  superb  chamber  will  remain.  I  am  surprised 
that  more  care  was  not  taken  by  the  English  to  preserve  so  splendid  a 
memorial  of  the  greatness  of  him  whom  they  had  conquered.  It  was  not 
like  Lord  "Wellesley's  general  mode  of  proceeding ;  and  I  soon  saw  a  proof 
of  his  taste  and  liberality.  Tippoo  raised  a  most  sumptuous  mausoleum 
to  his  father,  and  attached  to  it  a  mosque  which  he  endowed.  The  build- 
ings are  carefully  maintained  at  the  expense  of  our  Government.  You 
walk  up  from  the  fort  through  a  narrow  path,  bordered  by  flower-beds  and 
cypresses,  to  the  front  of  the  mausoleum,  which  is  very  beautiful,  and  in 
general  character  closely  resembles  the  most  richly  carved  of  our  small 
Gothic  chapels.  Within  are  three  tombs,  all  covered  with  magnificent 
palls  embroidered  in  gold  with  verses  from  the  Koran.  In  the  centre  lies 
Hyder;  on  his  right  the  mother  of  Tippoo;  and  Tippoo  himself  on  the 
left." 

During  his  stay  at  Mysore,  Macanlay  had  an  interview  with 
the  deposed  rajah ;  whose  appearance,  conversation,  palace, 
furniture,  jewels,  soldiers,  elephants,  courtiers,  and  idols  he 
depicts  in  a  letter,  intended  for  family  perusal,  with  a  minute- 
ness that  would  qualify  him  for  an  Anglo-Indian  Richardson. 
By  the  evening  of  the  24th  of  June  he  was  once  more  on  the 
road  ;  and,  about  noon  on  the  following  day,  he  began  to  as- 
cend the  Neilgherries,  through  scenery  which,  for  the  benefit 
of  readers  who  had  never  seen  the  Pyrenees  or  the  Italian 
slopes  of  an  Alpine  pass,  he  likened  to  "  the  vegetation  of 
Windsor  Forest  or  Blenheim  spread  over  the  mountains  of 
Cumberland."  After  reaching  the  summit  of  the  table-land, 
he  passed  through  a  wilderness  where  for  eighteen  miles  to- 
gether he  met  nothing  more  human  than  a  monkey,  until  a 
turn  of  the  road  disclosed  the  pleasant  surprise  of  an  amphi- 
theatre of  green  hills  encircling  a  small  lake,  whose  banks 
were  dotted  with  red -tiled  cottages  surrounding  a  pretty 
Gothic  church.  The  whole  station  presented  "  very  much  the 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  327 

look  of  a  rising  English  watering-place.  The  largest  house  is 
occupied  by  the  governor-general.  It  is  a  spacious  and  hand- 
some building  of  stone.  To  this  I  was  carried,  and  immedi- 
ately ushered  into  his  lordship's  presence.  I  found  him  sit- 
ting by  a  fire  in  a  carpeted  library.  He  received  me  with  the 
greatest  kindness,  frankness,  and  hospitality.  He  is,  as  far  as 
I  can  yet  judge,  all  that  I  have  heard ;  that  is  to  say,  rectitude, 
openness,  and  good  nature  personified."  Many  months  of  close 
friendship  and  common  labors  did  but  confirm  Macaulay  in 
this  first  view  of  Lord  William  Bentinck.  His  estimate  of  that 
singularly  noble  character  survives  in  the  closing  sentence  of 
the  essay  on  Lord  Olive ;  and  is  inscribed  on  the  base  of  the 
statue  which,  standing  in  front  of  the  Town  Hall,  may  be  seen 
far  and  wide  over  the  great  expanse  of  grass  that  serves  as  the 
park,  the  parade-ground,  and  the  race-course  of  Calcutta. 

To  Thomas  Flower  Ellis. 

Ootacamund,  July  1st,  1834. 

DEAR  ELLIS, — You  need  not  get  your  map  to  see  where 
Ootacamund  is,  for  it  has  not  found  its  way  into  the  maps. 
It  is  a  new  discovery ;  a  place  to  which  Europeans  resort  for 
their  health,  or,  as  it  is  called  by  the  Company's  servants — 
blessings  on  their  learning!  —  a  sanaterion.  It  lies  at  the 
height  of  seven  thousand  feet  above  the  sea. 

While  London  is  a  perfect  gridiron,  here  am  I,  at  13°  north 
from  the  equator,  by  a  blazing  wood-fire,  with  my  windows 
closed.  My  bed  is  heaped  with  blankets,  and  my  black  serv- 
ants are  coughing  round  me  in  all  directions.  One  poor  fel- 
low in  particular  looks  so  miserably  cold  that,  unless  the  sun 
comes  out,  I  am  likely  soon  to  see  under  my  own  roof  the 
spectacle  which,  according  to  Shakspeare,  is  so  interesting  to 
the  English* — a  dead  Indian. 

I  traveled  the  whole  four  hundred  miles  between  this  and 
Madras  on  men's  shoulders.  I  had  an  agreeable  journey,  on 
the  whole.  I  was  honored  by  an  interview  with  the  Rajah  of 
Mysore,  who  insisted  on  showing  me  all  his  wardrobe,  and  his 

*  "  The  Tempest,"  act  ii.,  scene  2. 


328  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  vi. 

picture-gallery.  He  has  six  or  seven  colored  English  prints 
not  much  inferior  to  those  which  I  have  seen  in  the  sanded 
parlor  of  a  country  inn :  "  Going  to  Cover,"  "  The  Death  of 
the  Fox,"  and  so  forth.  But  the  bijou  of  his  gallery,  of  which 
he  is  as  vain  as  the  grand  duke  can  be  of  the  "  Venus,"  or  Lord 
Carlisle  of  "  The  Three  Maries,"  is  a  head  of  the  Duke  of  "Wel- 
lington, which  has  most  certainly  been  on  a  sign-post  in  En- 
gland. 

Yet.  after  all,  the  rajah  was  by  no  means  the  greatest  fool 
whom  I  found  at  Mysore.  I  alighted  at  a  bungalow  apper- 
taining to  the  British  Residency.  There  I  found  an  English- 
man wrho,  without  any  preface,  accosted  me  thus :  "  Pray,  Mr. 
Macaulay,  do  not  you  think  that  Bonaparte  was  the  Beast?" 
"  No,  sir,  I  can  not  say  that  I  do."  "  Sir,  he  was  the  Beast. 
I  can  prove  it.  I  have  found  the  number  666  in  his  name. 
Why,  sir,  if  he  was  not  the  Beast,  who  was?"  This  was  a 
puzzling  question,  and  I  am  not  a  little  vain  of  my  answer. 
"  Sir,"  said  I,  "  the  House  of  Commons  is  the  Beast.  There 
are  658  members  of  the  House ;  and  these,  with  their  chief 
officers  —  the  three  clerks,  the  sergeant  and  his  deputy,  the 
chaplain,  the  door-keeper,  and  the  librarian  —  make  666." 
"  "Well,  sir,  that  is  strange.  But  I  can  assure  you  that,  if  you 
write  Napoleon  Bonaparte  in  Arabic,  leaving  out  only  two  let- 
ters, it  will  give  666."  "And,  pray,  sir,  what  right  have  you 
to  leave  out  two  letters  ?  And,  as  St.  John  was  writing  Greek 
and  to  Greeks,  is  it  not  likely  that  he  would  use  the  Greek 
rather  than  the  Arabic  notation  ?"  "  But,  sir,"  said  this  learn- 
ed divine,  "  every  body  knows  that  the  Greek  letters  were 
never  used  to  mark  numbers."  I  answered  with  the  meek- 
est look  and  voice  possible :  "  I  do  not  think  that  every  body 
knows  that.  Indeed,  I  have  reason  to  believe  that  a  different 
opinion — erroneous,  no  doubt — is  universally  embraced  by  all 
the  small  minority  who  happen  to  know  any  Greek."  So  end- 
ed the  controversy.  The  man  looked  at  me  as  if  he  thought 
me  a  very  wicked  fellow ;  and,  I  dare  say,  has  by  this  time  dis- 
covered that,  if  you  write  my  name  in  Tamul,  leaving  out  T 
in  Thomas,  B  in  Babington,  and  M  in  Macaulay,  it  will  give 
the  number  of  this  unfortunate  Beast. 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  329 

I  am  very  comfortable  here.  The  governor-general  is  the 
frankest  and  best-natured  of  men.  The  chief  functionaries 
who  have  attended  him  hither  are  clever  people,  but  not  ex- 
actly on  a  par  as  to  general  attainments  with  the  society  to 
which  I  belonged  in  London.  I  thought,  however,  even  at 
Madras,  that  I  could  have  formed  a  very  agreeable  circle  of 
acquaintance ;  and  I  am  assured  that  at  Calcutta  I  shall  find 
things  far  better.  After  all,  the  best  rule  in  all  parts  of  the 
world,  as  in  London  itself,  is  to  be  independent  of  other  men's 
minds.  My  power  of  finding  amusement  without  companions 
was  pretty  well  tried  on  my  voyage.  I  read  insatiably ;  the  "  Il- 
iad "  and  "  Odyssey,"  Virgil,  Horace,  Caesar's  "  Commentaries," 
Bacon, "  De  Augmentis,"  Dante,  Petrarch,  Ariosto,  Tasso, "  Don 
Quixote,"  Gibbon's  uKome,"  Mill's  "  India,"  all  the  seventy  vol- 
umes of  Voltaire,  Sismondi's  "  History  of  France,"  and  the  seven 
thick  folios  of  the  "  Biographia  Britannica."  I  found  my  Greek 
and  Latin  in  good  condition  enough.  I  liked  the  "  Iliad"  a  lit- 
tle less,  and  the  "  Odyssey  "  a  great  deal  more,  than  formerly. 
Horace  charmed  me  more  than  ever ;  Virgil  not  quite  so  much 
as  he  used  to  do.  The  want  of  human  character,  the  poverty  of 
his  supernatural  machinery,  struck  me  very  strongly.  Can  any 
thing  be  so  bad  as  the  living  bush  which  bleeds  and  talks,  or 
the  Harpies  who  befoul  ^Eneas's  dinner  ?  It  is  as  extravagant 
as  Ariosto,  and  as  dull  as  Wilkie's  "  Epigoniad."  The  last  six 
books  which  Virgil  had  not  fully  corrected  pleased  me  better 
than  the  first  six.  I  like  him  best  on  Italian  ground.  I  like 
his  localities ;  his  national  enthusiasm ;  his  frequent  allusions 
to  his  country,  its  history,  its  antiquities,  and  its  greatness. 
In  this  respect  he  often  reminded  me  of  Sir  "Walter  Scott, 
with  whom,  in  the  general  character  of  his  mind,  he  had  very 
little  affinity.  The  "Georgics"  pleased  me  better;  the  "Ec- 
logues" best — the  second  and  tenth  above  all.  But  I  think 
that  the  finest  lines  in  the  Latin  language  are  those  five  which 

begin : 

Sepibus  in  noslris  parvam  te  roscida  mala — * 

I  can  not  tell  you  how  they  struck  me.     I  was  amused  to  find 
*  Eclogue  viii.,  37. 


330  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  vi. 

that  Yoltaire  pronounces  that  passage  to  be  the  finest  in  Yir- 

gil- 

I  liked  the  "  Jerusalem "  better  than  I  used  to  do.     I  was 

enraptured  with  Ariosto ;  and  I  still  think  of  Dante,  as  I 
thought  when  I  first  read  him,  that  he  is  a  superior  poet  to 
Milton ;  that  he  runs  neck  and  neck  with  Homer ;  and  that 
none  but  Shakspeare  has  gone  decidedly  beyond  him. 

As  soon  as  I  reach  Calcutta  I  intend  to  read  Herodotus 
again.  By-the-bye,  why  do  not  you  translate  him?  You 
would  do  it  excellently ;  and  a  translation  of  Herodotus,  well 
executed,  would  rank  with  original  compositions.  A  quarter 
of  an  hour  a  day  would  finish  the  work  in  five  years.  The 
notes  might  be  made  the  most  amusing  in  the  world.  I  wish 
you  would  think  of  it.  At  all  events,  I  hope  you  will  do 
something  which  may  interest  more  than  seven  or  eight  peo- 
ple. Your  talents  are  too  great,  and  your  leisure  time  too 
small,  to  be  wasted  in  inquiries  so  frivolous  (I  must  call  them) 
as  those  in  which  you  have  of  late  been  too  much  engaged — 
whether  the  Cherokees  are  of  the  same  race  with  the  Chick- 
asaws ;  whether  Yan  Diemen's  Land  was  peopled  from  New 
Holland,  or  New  Holland  from  Yan  Diemen's  Land ;  what  is 
the  precise  mode  of  appointing  a  head-man  in  a  village  in 
Timbuctoo.  I  would  not  give  the  worst  page  in  Clarendon 
or  Fra  Paolo  for  all  that  ever  was  or  ever  will  be  written 
about  the  migrations  of  the  Leleges  and  the  laws  of  the  Os- 
cans. 

I  have  already  entered  on  my  public  functions,  and  I  hope 
to  do  some  good.  The  very  wigs  of  the  judges  in  the  Court 
of  King's  Bench  would  stand  on  end  if  they  knew  how  short 
a  chapter  my  Law  of  Evidence  will  form.  I  am  not  without 
many  advisers.  A  native  of  some  fortune  at  Madras  has  sent 
me  a  paper  on  legislation.  "  Your  honor  must  know,"  says 
this  judicious  person,  "  that  the  great  evil  is  that  men  swear 
falsely  in  this  country.  No  judge  knows  wrhat  to  believe. 
Surely,  if  your  honor  can  make  men  to  swear  truly,  your  hon- 
or's fame  will  be  great,  and  the  company  will  flourish.  Now, 
I  know  how  men  may  be  made  to  swear  truly ;  and  I  will  tell 
your  honor,  for  your  fame,  and  for  the  profit  of  the  company. 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  331 

Let  your  honor  cut  off  the  great  toe  of  the  right  foot  of  every 
man  who  swears  falsely,  whereby  your  honor's  fame  will  be 
extended."  Is  not  this  an  exquisite  specimen  of  legislative 
wisdom  ? 

I  must  stop.  When  I  begin  to  write  to  England,  my  pen 
runs  as  if  it  would  run  on  forever. 

Ever  yours  affectionately,  T.  B.  M. 

To  Miss  Fanny  and  Miss  Selina  Macaulay. 

Ootacamund,  August  10th,  1834. 

MY  DEAR  SISTERS, — I  sent  last  month  a  full  account  of  my 
journey  hither,  and  of  the  place,  to  Margaret,  as  the  most  sta- 
tionary of  our  family ;  desiring  her  to  let  you  all  see  what  I 
had  written  to  her.  I  think  that  I  shall  continue  to  take  the 
same  course.  It  is  better  to  write  one  full  and  connected  nar- 
rative than  a  good  many  imperfect  fragments. 

Money  matters  seem  likely  to  go  on  capitally.  My  ex- 
penses, I  find,  will  be  smaller  than  I  anticipated.  The  rate 
of  exchange,  if  you  know  what  that  means,  is  very  favorable 
indeed ;  and,  if  I  live,  I  shall  get  rich  fast.  I  quite  enjoy  the 
thought  of  appearing  in  the  light  of  an  old  hunks  who  knows 
on  which  side  his  bread  is  buttered ;  a  warm  man ;  a  fellow 
who  will  cut  up  well.  This  is  not  a  character  which  the  Mac- 
aulays  have  been  much  in  the  habit  of  sustaining ;  but  I  can 
assure  you  that  after  next  Christmas  I  expect  to  lay  up  on  an 
average  about  seven  thousand  pounds  a  year,  while  I  remain 
in  India. 

At  Christmas  I  shall  send  home  a  thousand  or  twelve  hun- 
dred pounds  for  my  father,  and  you  all.  I  can  not  tell  you 
what  a  comfort  it  is  to  me  to  find  that  I  shall  be  able  to  do 
this.  It  reconciles  me  to  all  the  pains — acute  enough,  some- 
times, God  knows — of  banishment.  In  a  few  years,  if  I  live 
— probably  in  less  than  five  years  from  the  time  at  which  you 
will  be  reading  this  letter — we  shall  be  again  together  in  a 
comfortable,  though  a  modest,  home  ;  certain  of  a  good  fire,  a 
good  joint  of  meat,  and  a  good  glass  of  wine ;  without  owing 
obligations  to  any  body  ;  and  perfectly  indifferent,  at  least  as 
far  as  our  pecuniary  interest  is  concerned,  to  the  changes  of 


332  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  vi. 

the  political  world.  Rely  on  it,  my  dear  girls,  that  there  is  no 
chance  of  my  going  back  with  my  heart  cooled  toward  you. 
I  came  hither  principally  to  save  my  family,  and  I  am  not 
likely  while  here  to  forget  them.  Ever  yours, 

T.  B.  M. 

The  months  of  July  and  August  Macaulay  spent  on  the 
Neilgherries,  in  a  climate  equable  as  Madeira  and  invigorating 
as  Braemar ;  where  thickets  of  rhododendron  fill  the  glades 
and  clothe  the  ridges ;  and  where  the  air  is  heavy  with  the 
scent  of  rose-trees  of  a  size  more  fitted  for  an  orchard  than  a 
flower-bed,  and  bushes  of  heliotrope  thirty  paces  round.  The 
glories  of  the  forests  and  of  the  gardens  touched  him  in  spite 
of  his  profound  botanical  ignorance,  and  he  dilates  more  than 
once  upon  his  "  cottage  buried  in  laburnums,  or  something 
very  like  them,  and  geraniums  which  grow  in  the  open  air." 
He  had  the  more  leisure  for  the  natural  beauties  of  the  place, 
as  there  was  not  much  else  to  interest  even  a  traveler  fresh 
from  England. 

"  I  have  as  yet  seen  little  of  the  idolatry  of  India ;  and  that  little, 
though  excessively  absurd,  is  not  characterized  by  atrocity  or  indecency. 
There  is  nothing  of  the  sort  at  Ootacamund.  I  have  not,  during  the  last 
six  weeks,  witnessed  a  single  circumstance  from  which  you  would  have 
inferred  that  this  was  a  heathen  country.  The  bulk  of  the  natives  here 
are  a  colony  from  the  plains  below,  who  have  come  up  hither  to  wait  on 
the  European  visitors,  and  who  seem  to  trouble  themselves  very  little 
about  caste  or  religion.  The  Todas,  the  aboriginal  population  of  these 
hills,  are  a  very  curious  race.  They  had  a  grand  funeral  a  little  while 
ago.  I  should  have  gone  if  it  had  not  been  a  council  day ;  but  I  found 
afterward  that  I  had  lost  nothing.  The  whole  ceremony  consisted  in  sac- 
rificing bullocks  to  the  manes  of  the  defunct.  The  roaring  of  the  poor  vic- 
tims was  horrible.  The  people  stood  talking  and  laughing  till  a  particu- 
lar signal  was  made,  and  immediately  all  the  ladies  lifted  up  their  voices 
and  wept.  I  have  not  lived  three-aud-thirty  years  in  this  world  without 
learning  that  a  bullock  roars  when  he  is  knocked  down,  and  that  a  woman 
can  cry  whenever  she  chooses. 

"  By  all  that  I  can  learn,  the  Catholics  are  the  most  respectable  portion 
of  the  native  Christians.  As  to  Swartz's  people  in  the  Tanjore,  they  are  a 
perfect  scandal  to  the  religion  which  they  profess.  It  would  have  been 
thought  something  little  short  of  blasphemy  to  say  this  a  year  ago ;  but 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  333 

now  it  is  considered  impious  to  say  otherwise,  for  they  have  got  into  a  vio- 
lent quarrel  with  the  missionaries  and  the  bishop.  The  missionaries  re- 
fused to  recognize  the  distinctions  of  caste  in  the  administration  of  the 
sacrament  of  the  Lord's-supper,  and  the  bishop  supported  them  in  the  re- 
fusal. I  do  not  pretend  to  judge  whether  this  was  right  or  wrong.  Swartz 
and  Bishop  Heber  conceived  that  the  distinction  of  caste,  however  objec- 
tionable politically,  was  still  only  a  distinction  of  rank ;  and  that,  as  in 
English  churches  the  gentlefolks  generally  take  the  sacrament  apart  from 
the  poor  of  the  parish,  so  the  high-caste  natives  might  be  allowed  to  com- 
municate apart  from  the  pariahs. 

"  But,  whoever  was  first  in  the  wrong,  the  Christians  of  Taujore  took 
care  to  be  most  so.  They  called  in  the  interposition  of  Government,  and 
sent  up  such  petitions  and  memorials  as  I  never  saw  before  or  since ;  made 
up  of  lies,  invectives,  bragging,  cant,  bad  grammar  of  the  most  ludicrous 
kind,  and  texts  of  Scripture  quoted  without  the  smallest  application.  I 
remember  one  passage  by  heart,  which  is  really  only  a  fair  specimen  of  the 
whole :  '  These  missionaries,  my  lord,  loving  only  filthy  lucre,  bid  us  to  eat 
Lordsupper  with  pariahs  as  lives  ugly,  handling  dead  men,  drinking  rack 
and  toddy,  sweeping  the  streets,  mean  fellows  altogether,  base  persons, 
contrary  to  that  which  Saint  Paul  saith :  I  determined  to  know  nothing 
among  you  save  Jesus  Christ  and  Him  crucified.' 

"  Was  there  ever  a  more  appropriate  quotation  ?  I  believe  that  nobody 
on  either  side  of  the  controversy  found  out  a  text  so  much  to  the  purpose 
as  one  which  I  cited  to  the  Council  of  India  when  we  were  discussing  this 
business :  '  If  this  be  a  question  of  words,  and  names,  and  of  your  law,  look 
ye  to  it ;  for  I  will  be  no  judge  of  such  matters.'  But  though,  like  Gallio, 
I  drove  them  and  their  petitions  from  my  judgment-seat,  I  could  not  help 
saying  to  one  of  the  missionaries,  who  is  here  on  the  Hills,  that  I  thought 
it  a  pity  to  break  up  the  Church  of  Tanjore  on  account  of  a  matter  which 
such  men  as  Swartz  and  Heber  had  not  been  inclined  to  regard  as  essen- 
tial. '  Sir,'  said  the  reverend  gentleman,  '  the  sooner  the  Church  of  Tan- 
jore is  broken  up,  the  better.  You  can  form  no  notion  of  the  worthless- 
ness  of  the  native  Christians  there.'  I  could  not  dispute  this  point  with 
him ;  but  neither  could  I  help  thinking,  though  I  was  too  polite  to  say  so, 
that  it  was  hardly  worth  the  while  of  so  many  good  men  to  come  fifteen 
thousand  miles  over  sea  and  land  in  order  to  make  proselytes,  who,  their 
very  instructors  being  judges,  were  more  children  of  hell  than  before." 

Unfortunately,  Macaulay's  stay  on  the  Neilgherries  coin- 
cided with  the  monsoon.  "  The  rain  streamed  down  in  floods. 
It  was  very  seldom  that  I  could  see  a  hundred  yards  in  front 
of  me.  During  a  month  together  I  did  not  get  two  hoars' 
walking."  He  began  to  be  bored,  for  the  first  and  last  time 
in  his  life :  while  his  companions,  who  had  not  his  resources, 


33i  LIFE  AND  LETTEES  OF  [CHAP.  vx. 

were  ready  to  hang  themselves  for  very  dullness.  The  ordi- 
nary amusements  with  which,  in  the  more  settled  parts  of  In- 
dia, our  countrymen  beguile  the  rainy  season,  were  wanting 
in  a  settlement  that  had  only  lately  been  reclaimed  from  the 
desert;  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  which  you  still  ran  the 
chance  of  being  "  trodden  into  the  shape  of  half  a  crown  by  a 
wild  elephant,  or  eaten  by  the  tigers,  which  prefer  this  situation 
to  the  plains  below  for  the  same  reason  that  takes  so  many 
Europeans  to  India :  they  encounter  an  uncongenial  climate 
for  the  sake  of  what  they  can  get."  There  were  no  books  in 
the  place  except  those  that  Macaulay  had  brought  with  him ; 
among  which,  most  luckily,  was  "  Clarissa  Harlowe."  Aided 
by  the  rain  outside,  he  soon  talked  his  favorite  romance  into 
general  favor.  The  reader  will  consent  to  put  up  with  one 
or  two  slight  inaccuracies  in  order  to  have  the  story  told  by 
Thackeray. 

"  1  spoke  to  him  once  about '  Clarissa.'  '  Not  read  "  Clarissa !" '  he  cried 
out.  '  If  you  have  once  read  "  Clarissa,"  and  are  infected  by  it,  you  can't 
leave  it.  When  I  was  in  India  I  passed  one  hot  season  in  the  Hills ;  and 
there  \vere  the  governor-general,  and  the  secretary  of  government,  and  the 
coinmauder-in-chief,  and  their  wives.  I  had  "  Clarissa  "  with  me ;  and  as 
soon  as  they  began  to  read,  the  whole  station  was  in  a  passion  of  excitement 
about  Miss  Harlowe,  and  her  misfortunes,  and  her  scoundrelly  Lovelace. 
The  governor's  wife  seized  the  book ;  the  secretary  waited  for  it ;  the  chief- 
justice  could  not  read  it  for  tears.'  He  acted  the  whole  scene :  he  paced 
np  and  down  the  Athenaeum  library.  I  dare  say  he  could  have  spoken 
pages  of  the  book :  of  that  book,  and  of  what  countless  piles  of  others !" 

An  old  Scotch  doctor,  a  Jacobin  and  a  freethinker,  who 
could  only  be  got  to  attend  church  by  the  positive  orders  of 
the  governor-general,  cried  over  the  last,  volume*  until  he  was 

*  Degenerate  readers  of  our  own  day  have  actually  been  provided  with 
an  abridgment  of  "  Clarissa,"  itself  as  long  as  an  ordinary  novel.  A  wiser 
course  than  buying  the  abridgment  would  be  to  commence  the  original  at 
the  third  volume.  In  the  same  way,  if  any  one,  after  obtaining  the  out- 
line of  Lady  Clementina's  story  from  a  more  adventurous  friend,  will 
read  "  Sir  Charles  Grandison,"  skipping  all  letters  from  Italians  to  Italians, 
and  about  Italians,  he  will  find  that  he  has  got  hold  of  a  delightful,  and 
not  unmanageable,  book. 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  335 

too  ill  to  appear  at  dinner.  The  chief  secretary — afterward, 
as  Sir  "William  Macnaghten,  the  hero  and  the  victim  of  the 
darkest  episode  in  our  Indian  history — declared  that  reading 
this  copy  of  "  Clarissa  "  under  the  inspiration  of  its  owner's  en- 
thusiasm was  nothing  less  than  an  epoch  in  his  life.  After 
the  lapse  of  thirty  years,  when  Ootacamund  had  long  enjoyed 
the  advantage  of  a  book-club  and  a  circulating  library,  the  tra- 
dition of  Macaulay  and  his  novel  still  lingered  on  with  a  te- 
nacity most  unusual  in  the  ever-shifting  society  of  an  Indian 
station. 

"At  length  Lord  William  gave  me  leave  of  absence.  My  bearers  -were 
posted  along  the  road ;  my  palanquins  were  packed ;  and  I  was  to  start 
next  day ;  when  an  event  took  place  which  may  give  you  some  insight 
into  the  state  of  the  laws,  morals,  and  manners  among  the  natives. 

"  My  new  servant,  a  Christian,  but  such  a  Christian  as  the  missionaries 
make  in  this  part  of  the  world,  had  been  persecuted  most  unmercifully  for 
his  religion  by  the  servants  of  some  other  gentlemen  on  the  Hills.  At  last 
they  contrived  to  excite  against  him  (whether  justly  or  unjustly,  I  am 
quite  unable  to  say)  the  jealousy  of  one  of  Lord  William's  under-cooks. 
We  had  accordingly  a  most  glorious  tragi-comedy ;  the  part  of  Othello  by 
the  cook  aforesaid ;  Desdemona  by  an  ugly,  impudent  pariah  girl,  his  wife ; 
lago  by  Colonel  Casement's  servant;  and  Michael  Cassio  by  my  rascal. 
The  place  of  the  handkerchief  was  supplied  by  a  small  piece  of  sugar-can- 
dy which  Desdemona  was  detected  in  the  act  of  sucking,  and  which  had 
found  its  way  from  my  canisters  to  her  fingers.  If  I  had  any  part  in  the 
piece,  it  was,  I  am  afraid,  that  of  Roderigo,  whom  Shakspeare  describes  as 
a '  foolish  gentleman,'  and  who  also  appears  to  have  had  '  money  in  his 
purse.' 

"On  the  evening  before  my  departure,  my  bungalow  was  besieged  by  a 
mob  of  blackguards.  The  native  judge  came  with  them.  After  a  most 
prodigious  quantity  of  jabbering,  of  which  I  could  not  understand  one 
word,  I  called  the  judge,  who  spoke  tolerable  English,  into  my  room,  and 
learned  from  him  the  nature  of  the  case.  I  was,  and  still  am,  in  doubt  as 
to  the  truth  of  the  charge.  I  have  a  very  poor  opinion  of  my  man's  mor- 
als, and  a  very  poor  opinion  also  of  the  veracity  of  .his  accusers.  It  was, 
however,  so  very  inconvenient  for  me  to  be  just  then  deprived  of  my  serv- 
ant that  I  offered  to  settle  the  business  at  my  own  expense.  Under  ordi- 
nary circumstances  this  would  have  been  easy  enough,  for  the  Hindoos  of 
the  lower  castes  have  no  delicacy  on  these  subjects.  The  husband  would 
gladly  have  taken  a  few  rupees,  and  walked  away ;  but  the  persecutors  of 
my  servant  interfered,  and  insisted  that  he  should  be  brought  to  trial  in 
order  that  they  might  have  the  pleasure  of  smearing  him  with  filth,  giv- 


336  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  n. 

ing  him  a  flogging,  beating  kettles  before  him,  and  carrying  him  round  on 
an  ass  with  his  face  to  the  tail. 

"As  the  matter  could  not  be  accommodated,  I  begged  the  judge  to  try 
the  case  instantly;  but  the  rabble  insisted  that  the  trial  should  not  take 
place  for  some  days.  I  argued  the  matter  with  them  very  mildly,  and  told 
them  that  I  must  go  next  day,  and  that  if  my  servant  were  detained,  guilty 
or  innocent,  he  must  lose  his  situation.  The  gentle  and  reasoning  tone  of 
my  expostulations  only  made  them  impudent.  They  are,  in  truth,  a  race 
so  accustomed  to  be  trampled  on  by  the  strong  that  they  always  consider 
humanity  as  a  sign  of  weakness.  The  judge  told  me  that  he  never  heard 
a  gentleman  speak  such  sweet  words  to  the  people.  But  I  was  now  at 
an  end  of  my  sweet  words.  My  blood  was  beginning  to  boil  at  the  undis- 
guised display  of  rancorous  hatred  and  shameless  injustice.  I  sat  down, 
and  wrote  a  line  to  the  commandant  of  the  station,  begging  him  to  give 
orders  that  the  case  might  be  tried  that  very  evening.  The  court  assem- 
bled, and  continued  all  night  in  violent  contention.  At  last  the  judge  pro- 
nounced my  servant  not  guilty.  I  did  not  then  know,  what  I  learned  some 
days  after,  that  this  respectable  magistrate  had  received  twenty  rupees  on 
the  occasion. 

"  The  husbaud  would  now  gladly  have  taken  the  money  which  he  re- 
fused the  day  before ;  but  I  would  not  give  him  a  farthing.  The  rascals 
who  had  raised  the  disturbance  were  furious.  My  servant  was  to  set  out 
at  eleven  in  the  morning,  and  I  was  to  follow  at  two.  He  had  scarcely  left 
the  door  when  I  heard  a  noise.  I  looked  forth,  and  saw  that  the  gang  had 
pulled  him  out  of  his  palanquin,  torn  off  his  turban,  stripped  him  almost 
naked,  and  were,  as  it  seemed,  about  to  pull  him  to  pieces.  I  snatched  up 
a  sword-stick,  and  ran  into  the  middle  of  them.  It  was  all  I  could  do  to 
force  my  way  to  him,  and  for  a  moment  I  thought  my  own  person  was  in 
danger  as  well  as  his.  I  supported  the  poor  wretch  in  my  arms ;  for,  like 
most  of  his  countrymen,  he  is  a  chicken-hearted  fellow,  and  was  almost 
fainting  away.  My  honest  barber,  a  fine  old  soldier  in  the  company's 
service,  ran  off  for  assistance,  and  soon  returned  with  some  police  officers. 
I  ordered  the  bearers  to  turn  round,  and  proceeded  instantly  to  the  house 
of  the  commandant.  I  was  not  long  detained  here.  Nothing  can  be 
well  imagined  more  expeditious  than  the  administration  of  justice  in  this 
country,  when  the  judge  is  a  colonel,  and  the  plaintiff  a  councilor.  I  told 
my  story  in  three  words.  In  three  minutes  the  rioters  were  inarched  off 
to  prison,  and  my  servant,  with  a  sepoy  to  guard  him,  was  fairly  on  his 
road  and  out  of  danger." 

Early  next  morning  Macaulay  began  to  descend  the  pass. 

"After  going  down  for  about  an  hour  we  emerged  from  the  clouds  and 
moisture,  and  the  plain  of  Mysore  lay  before  us — a  vast  ocean  of  foliage  on 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  337 

which  the  sun  was  shining  gloriously.  I  am  very  little  given  to  cant  about 
the  beauties  of  nature,  but  I  was  almost  moved  to  tears.  I  jumped  off  the 
palanquin,  and  walked  in  front  of  it  down  the  immense  declivity.  In  two 
hours  we  descended  about  three  thousand  feet.  Every  turning  in  the  road 
showed  the  boundless  forest  below  in  some  new  point  of  view.  I  was  great- 
ly struck  with  the  resemblance  which  this  prodigious  jungle,  as  old  as  the 
world,  and  planted  by  nature,  bears  to  the  fine  works  of  the  great  English 
landscape  gardeners.  It  was  exactly  a  Wentworth  Park  as  large  as  Dev- 
onshire. After  reaching  the  foot  of  the  hills,  we  traveled  through  a  suc- 
cession of  scenes  which  might  have  been  part  of  the  Garden  of  Eden.  Such 
gigantic  trees  I  never  saw.  In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  I  passed  hundreds,  the 
smallest  of  which  would  bear  a  comparison  with  any  of  those  oaks  which 
are  shown  as  prodigious  in  England.  The  grass,  the  weeds,  and  the  wild 
flowers  grew  as  high  as  my  head.  The  sun,  almost  a  stranger  to  me,  was 
now  shining  brightly  ;  and,  when  late  in  the  afternoon  I  again  got  out  of 
my  palanquin  and  looked  back,  I  saw  the  large  mountain  ridge  from  which 
I  had  descended  twenty  miles  behind  me,  still  buried  in  the  same  mass  of 
fog  aud  rain  in  which  I  had  been  living  for  weeks. 

"  On  Tuesday,  the  16th,  I  went  on  board  at  Madras.  I  amused  myself 
on  the  voyage  to  Calcutta  with  learning  Portuguese,  and  made  myself  al- 
most as  well  acquainted  with  it  as  I  care  to  be.  I  read  The  "  Lusiad,"  and 
am  now  reading  it  a  second  time.  I  own  that  I  am  disappointed  in  Camo- 
ens ;  but  I  have  so  often  found  my  first  impressions  wrong  on  such  subjects 
that  I  still  hope  to  be  able  to  join  my  voice  to  that  of  the  great  body  of 
critics.  I  never  read  any  famous  foreign  book  which  did  not,  in  the  first 
perusal,  fall  short  of  my  expectations,  except  Dante's  poem,  and  "Don 
Quixote,"  which  were  prodigiously  superior  to  what  I  had  imagined.  Yet 
in  these  cases  I  had  not  pitched  my  expectations  low." 

He  had  not  much  time  for  his  Portuguese  studies.  The 
run  was  unusually  fast,  and  the  ship  only  spent  a  week  in  the 
Bay  of  Bengal,  and  forty-eight  hours  in  the  Hooghly.  He 
found  his  sister  comfortably  installed  in  Government  House, 
where  he  himself  took  up  his  quarters  during  the  next  six 
weeks ;  Lady  William  Bentinck  having  been  prepared  to  wel- 
come him  as  a  guest  by  her  husband's  letters,  more  than  one 
of  which  ended  with  the  words  "e  un  miracolo."  Toward 
the  middle  of  November,  Macaulay  began  housekeeping  for 
himself ;  living,  as  he  always  loved  to  live,  rather  more  gen- 
erously than  the  strict  necessities  of  his  position  demanded. 
His  residence,  then  the  best  in  Calcutta,  has  long  since  been 
converted  into  the  Bengal  Club. 

YOL.  I.— 22 


338  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  vi. 

To  Macvey  Napier ',  Esq. 

Calcutta,  December  10th,  1834. 

DEAR  NAPIER, — First  to  business.  At  length  I  send  you 
the  article  on  Mackintosh ;  an  article  which  has  the  merit  of 
length,  whatever  it  may  be  deficient  in.  As  I  wished  to 
transmit  it  to  England  in  duplicate,  if  not  in  triplicate,  I 
thought  it  best  to  have  two  or  three  copies  coarsely  printed 
here  under  the  seal  of  strict  secrecy.  The  printers  at  Edin- 
burgh will,  therefore,  have  no  trouble  in  deciphering  my  man- 
uscript, and  the  corrector  of  the  press  will  find  his  work  done 
to  his  hands. 

The  disgraceful  imbecility,  and  the  still  more  disgraceful 
malevolence,  of  the  editor  have,  as  you  will  see,  moved  my 
indignation  not  a  little.  I  hope  that  Longman's  connection 
with  the  Review  will  not  prevent  you  from  inserting  what  I 
have  said  on  this  subject.  Murray's  copy  writers  are  unspar- 
ingly abused  by  Southey  and  Lockhart  in  the  Quarterly  •  and 
it  would  be  hard  indeed  if  we  might  not  in  the  Edinburgh 
strike  hard  at  an  assailant  of  Mackintosh. 

I  shall  now  begin  another  article.  The  subject  I  have  not 
yet  fixed  upon ;  perhaps  the  romantic  poetry  of  Italy,  for 
which  there  is  an  excellent  opportunity,  Panizzi's  reprint  of 
Boiardo  ;  perhaps  the  little  volume  of  Burnet's  "  Characters  " 
edited  by  Bishop  Jebb.  This  reminds  me  that  I  have  to  ac- 
knowledge the  receipt  of  a  box  from  Longman,  containing  this 
little  book  ;  and  other  books  of  much  greater  value,  Grimm's 
"  Correspondence,"  Jacquemont's  "  Letters,"  and  several  for- 
eign works  on  jurisprudence.  All  that  you  have  yet  sent 
have  been  excellently  chosen.  I  will  mention,  while  I  am  on 
this  subject,  a  few  books  which  I  want,  and  which  I  am  not 
likely  to  pick  up  here :  Daru's  "  Histoire  de  Yenise ;"  St. 
Real's  "  Conjuration  de  Yenise ;"  Era  Paolo's  works ;  Mon- 
strelet's  "  Chronicle ;"  and  Coxe's  book  on  the  Pelhams.  I 
should  also  like  to  have  a  really  good  edition  of  Lucian. 

My  sister  desires  me  to  send  you  her  kind  regards.  She 
remembers  her  visit  to  Edinburgh,  and  your  hospitality,  with 
the  greatest  pleasure.  Calcutta  is  called,  and  not  without 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  339 

some  reason,  the  City  of  Palaces ;  but  I  have  seen  nothing  in 
the  East  like  the  view  from  the  Castle  Rock,  nor  expect  to  see 
any  thing  like  it  till  we  stand  there  together  again.  Kindest 
regards  to  Lord  Jeffrey.  Yours  most  truly, 

T.  B.  MACAULAY. 

To  Mrs.  Cropper. 

Calcutta,  December  7th,  1834. 

DEAREST  MARGARET, — I  rather  suppose  that  some  late  let- 
ters from  Nancy  may  have  prepared  you  to  learn  what  I  am 
now  about  to  communicate.  She  is  going  to  be  married,  and 
with  my  fullest  and  warmest  approbation.  I  can  truly  say 
that,  if  I  had  to  search  India  for  a  husband  for  her,  I  could 
have  found  no  man  to  whom  I  could  with  equal  confidence 
have  intrusted  her  happiness.  Trevelyan  is  about  eight-and- 
twenty.  He  was  educated  at  the  Charter-house,  and  then 
went  to  Haileybury,  and  came  out  hither.  In  this  country  he 
has  distinguished  himself  beyond  any  man  of  his  standing  by 
his  great  talent  for  business ;  by  his  liberal  and  enlarged  views 
of  policy ;  and  by  literary  merit,  which,  for  his  opportunities, 
is  considerable.  He  was  at  first  placed  at  Delhi  under  Sir 
Edward  Colebrooke,  a  very  powerful  and  a  very  popular  man, 
but  extremely  corrupt.  This  man  tried  to  initiate  Trevelyan 
in  his  own  infamous  practices ;  but  the  young  fellow's  spirit 
was  too  noble  for  such  things.  When  only  twenty-one  years 
of  age,  he  publicly  accused  Sir  Edward,  then  almost  at  the  head 
of  the  service,  of  receiving  bribes  from  the  natives.  A  per- 
fect storm  was  raised  against  the  accuser.  He  was  almost  ev- 
erywhere abused,  and  very  generally  cut.  But,  with  a  firm- 
ness and  ability  scarcely  ever  seen  in  any  man  so  young,  he 
brought  his  proofs  forward,  and,  after  an  inquiry  of  some 
weeks,  fully  made  out  his  case.  Sir  Edward  was  dismissed  in 
disgrace,  and  is  now  living  obscurely  in  England.  The  Gov- 
ernment here,  and  the  directors  at  home,  applauded  Trevelyan 
in  the  highest  terms  ;  and  from  that  time  he  has  been  consid- 
ered as  a  man  likely  to  rise  to  the  very  top  of  the  service. 
Lord  "William  told  him  to  ask  for  any  thing  that  he  wished 
for.  Trevelyan  begged  that  something  might  be  done  for 


340  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  vi. 

his  elder  brother,  who  is  in  the  company's  army.  Lord 
William  told  him  that  he  had  richly  earned  that,  or  any  thing 
else,  and  gave  Lieutenant  Trevelyan  a  very  good  diplomatic 
employment.  Indeed  Lord  William,  a  man  who  makes  no 
favorites,  has  always  given  to  Trevelyan  the  strongest  marks, 
not  of  a  blind  partiality,  but  of  a  thoroughly  well-grounded 
and  discriminating  esteem. 

Not  long  ago  Trevelyan  was  appointed  by  him  to  the  un- 
der secretaryship  for  foreign  affairs,  an  office  of  a  very  impor- 
tant and  confidential  nature.  While  holding  the  place,  he  was 
commissioned  to  report  to  Government  on  the  operation  of 
the  internal  transit  duties  of  India.  About  a  year  ago  his  re- 
port was  completed.  I  shall  send  to  England  a  copy  or  two 
of  it  by  the  first  safe  conveyance,  for  nothing  that  I  can  say  of 
his  abilities  or  of  his  public  spirit  will  be  half  so  satisfactory. 
I  have  no  hesitation  in  affirming  that  it  is  a  perfect  master- 
piece in  its  kind.  Accustomed  as  I  have  been  to  public  af- 
fairs, I  never  read  an  abler  state  paper ;  and  I  do  not  believe 
that  there  is,  I  will  not  say  in  India,  but  in  England,  another 
man  of  twenty-seven  who  could  have  written  it.  Trevelyan 
is  a  most  stormy  reformer.  Lord  William  said  to  me  before 
any  one  had  observed  Trevelyan's  attentions  to  Nancy,  "  That 
man  is  almost  always  on  the  right  side  in  every  question ;  and 
it  is  well  that  he  is  so,  for  he  gives  a  most  confounded  deal  of 
trouble  when  he  happens  to  take  the  wrong  one."*  He  is 
quite  at  the  head  of  that  active  party  among  the  younger  serv- 
ants of  the  company  who  take  the  side  of  improvement.  In 
particular,  he  is  the  soul  of  every  scheme  for  diffusing  edu- 
cation among  the  natives  of  this  country.  His  reading  has 
been  very  confined ;  but  to  the  little  that  he  has  read  he  has 
brought  a  mind  as  active  and  restless  as  Lord  Brougham's,  and 
much  more  judicious  and  honest. 

As  to  his  person,  he  always  looks  like  a  gentleman,  particu- 
larly on  horseback.  He  is  very  active  and  athletic,  and  is  re- 

*  Macaulay  used  to  apply  to  his  future  brother-in-law  the  remark  which 
Julius  Caesar  made  with  regard  to  his  yonug  friend  Brutus :  "  Magui  refert 
hie  quid  velit.  Quidqnid  volet,  valde  volet." 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  341 

nowned  as  a  great  master  in  the  most  exciting  and  perilous  of 
field-sports,  the  spearing  of  wild  boars.  His  face  has  a  most 
characteristic  expression  of  ardor  and  impetuosity,  which 
makes  his  countenance  very  interesting  to  me.  Birth  is  a 
thing  that  I  care  nothing  about ;  but  his  family  is  one  of  the 
oldest  and  best  in  England. 

During  the  important  years  of  his  life,  from  twenty  to 
twenty-five,  or  thereabouts,  Trevelyan  was  in  a  remote  prov- 
ince of  India,  where  his  whole  time  was  divided  between  pub- 
lic business  and  field-sports,  and  where  he  seldom  saw  a  Eu- 
ropean gentleman,  and  never  a  European  lady.  He  has  no 
small  talk.  His  mind  is  full  of  schemes  of  moral  and  political 
improvement,  and  his  zeal  boils  over  in  his  talk.  His  topics, 
even  in  courtship,  are  steam  navigation,  the  education  of  the 
natives,  the  equalization  of  the  sugar  duties,  the  substitution 
of  the  Eoman  for  the  Arabic  alphabet  in  the  Oriental  lan- 
guages. 

I  saw  the  feeling  growing  from  the  first;  for,  though  I 
generally  pay  not  the  smallest  attention  to  those  matters,  I 
had  far  too  deep  an  interest  in  Nancy's  happiness  not  to 
watch  her  behavior  to  every  body  who  saw  much  of  her.  I 
knew  it,  I  believe,  before  she  knew  it  herself ;  and  I  could 
most  easily  have  prevented  it  by  merely  treating  Trevelyan 
with  a  little  coldness,  for  he  is  a  man  whom  the  smallest 
rebuff  would  completely  discourage.  But  you  will  believe, 
my  dearest  Margaret,  that  no  thought  of  such  base  selfishness 
ever  passed  through  my  mind.  I  would  as  soon  have  locked 
my  dear  Nancy  up  in  a  nunnery  as  have  put  the  smallest  ob- 
stacle in  the  way  of  her  having  a  good  husband.  I  there- 
fore gave  every  facility  and  encouragement  to  both  of  them. 
What  I  have  myself  felt,  it  is  unnecessary  to  say.  My  part- 
ing from  you  almost  broke  my  heart.  But  when  I  parted 
from  you  I  had  Nancy ;  I  had  all  my  other  relations ;  I  had 
my  friends ;  I  had  my  country.  Now  I  have  nothing  except 
the  resources  of  my  own  mind,  and  the  consciousness  of  hav- 
ing acted  not  ungenerously.  But  I  do  not  repine.  Whatever 
I  suffer  I  have  brought  on  myself.  I  have  neglected  the  plain- 
est lessons  of  reason  and  experience.  I  have  staked  my  hap- 


342  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.VI. 

piness  without  calculating  the  chances  of  the  dice.  I  have 
hewn  out  broken  cisterns ;  I  have  leaned  on  a  reed ;  I  have 
built  on  the  sand  ;  and  I  have  fared  accordingly.  I  must  bear 
my  punishment  as  I  can ;  and,  above  all,  I  must  take  care  that 
the  punishment  does  not  extend  beyond  myself. 

Nothing  can  be  kinder  than  Nancy's  conduct  has  been. 
She  proposes  that  we  should  form  one  family ;  and  Trevelyan 
(though  like  most  lovers,  he  would,  I  imagine,  prefer  having 
his  goddess  to  himself),  consented  with  strong  expressions  of 
pleasure.  The  arrangement  is  not  so  strange  as  it  might  seem 
at  home.  The  thing  is  often  done  here;  and  those  quarrels 
between  servants,  which  would  inevitably  mar  any  such  plan 
in  England,  are  not  to  be  apprehended  in  an  Indian  establish- 
ment. One  advantage  there  will  be  in  our  living  together  of 
a  most  incontestable  sort — we  shall  both  be  able  to  save  more 
money.  Trevelyan  will  soon  be  entitled  to  his  furlough ;  but 
he  proposes  not  to  take  it  till  I  go  home. 

I  shall  write  in  a  very  different  style  from  this  to  my  father. 
To  him  I  shall  represent  the  marriage  as  what  it  is  in  every 
respect  except  its  effect  on  my  own  dreams  of  happiness — a 
most  honorable  and  happy  event ;  prudent  in  a  worldly  point 
of  view ;  and  promising  all  the  felicity  which  strong  mutual 
affection,  excellent  principles  on  both  sides,  good  temper, 
youth,  health,  and  the  general  approbation  of  friends  can  af- 
ford. As  for  myself,  it  is  a  tragical  denouement  of  an  absurd 
plot.  I  remember  quoting  some  nursery  rhymes,  years  ago, 
when  you  left  me  in  London  to  join  Nancy  at  Rothley  Tem- 
ple or  Leamington,  I  forget  which.  Those  foolish  lines  con- 
tain the  history  of  my  life. 

There  were  two  birds  that  sat  on  a  stone : 
One  flew  away,  and  there  was  but  one. 
The  other  flew  away,  and  then  there  was  none ; 
And  the  poor  stone  was  left  all  alone. 

Ever,  my  dearest  Margaret,  yours,          T.  B.  MACAULAY. 

A  passage  from  a  second  letter  to  the  same  person  deserves 
to  be  quoted,  as  an  instance  of  how  a  good  man  may  be  un- 
able to  read  aright  his  own  nature,  and  a  wise  man  to  forecast 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  343 

his  own  future.  "  I  feel  a  growing  tendency  to  cynicism  and 
suspicion.  My  intellect  remains ;  and  is  likely,  I  sometimes 
think,  to  absorb  the  whole  man.  I  still  retain  (not  only  un- 
diminished,  but  strengthened  by  the  very  events  which  have 
deprived  me  of  every  thing  else)  my  thirst  for  knowledge; 
my  passion  for  holding  converse  with  the  greatest  minds  of 
all  ages  and  nations ;  my  power  of  forgetting  what  surrounds 
me,  and  of  living  with  the  past,  the  future,  the  distant,  and 
the  unreal.  Books  are  becoming  every  thing  to  me.  If  I 
had  at  this  moment  my  choice  of  life,  I  would  bury  myself  in 
one  of  those  immense  libraries  that  we  saw  together  at  the 
universities,  and  never  pass  a  waking  hour  without  a  book  be- 
fore me."  So  little  was  he  aware  that,  during  the  years  which 
were  to  come,  his  thoughts  and  cares  would  be  less  than  ever 
for  himself,  and  more  for  others  ;  and  that  his  existence  would 
be  passed  amidst  a  bright  atmosphere  of  affectionate  domestic 
happiness,  which,  until  his  own  death  came,  no  accident  was 
henceforward  destined  to  overcloud. 

But,  before  his  life  assumed  the.  equable  and  prosperous 
tenor  in  which  it  continued  to  the  end,  one  more  trouble  was 
in  store  for  him.  Long  before  the  last  letters  to  his  sister 
Margaret  had  been  written,  the  eyes  which  were  to  have  read 
them  had  been  closed  forever.  The  fate  of  so  young  a  wife 
and  mother  touched  deeply  all  who  had  known  her,  and  some 
who  knew  her  only  by  name.*  When  the  melancholy  news 
arrived  in  India,  the  young  couple  were  spending  their  honey- 
moon in  a  lodge  in  the  governor-general's  part  at  Barrackpore. 
They  immediately  returned  to  Calcutta,  and,  under  the  shad- 


*  Moultrie  made  Mrs.  Cropper's  death  the  subject  of  some  verses  on 
which  her  relatives  set  a  high  value.  He  acknowledges  his  little  poem  to 
be  the  tribute  of  one  who  had  been  a  stranger  to  her  whom  it  was  written 
to  commemorate. 

And  yet  methinks  we  are  not  strange:  so  many  claims  there  be 

Which  seem  to  weave  a  viewless  band  between  my  soul  and  thee. 

Sweet  sister  of  my  early  friend,  the  kind,  the  single-hearted, 

Than  whose  remembrance  none  more  bright  still  gilds  the  days  departed ! 

Beloved,  with  more  than  sister's  love,  by  some  whose  love  to  me 

Is  now  almost  my  brightest  gem  in  this  world's  treasury. 


344  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  VL 

ow  of  a  great  sorrow,*  began  their  sojourn  in  their  brother's 
house ;  who,  for  his  part,  did  what  he  might  to  drown  his 
grief  in  floods  of  official  work. 

The  narrative  of  that  work  may  well  be  the  despair  of 
Macaulay's  biographer.  It  would  be  inexcusable  to  slur  over 
what  in  many  important  respects  was  the  most  honorable 
chapter  of  his  life ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  the  task  of  in- 
teresting Englishmen  in  the  details  of  Indian  administration 
is  an  undertaking  which  has  baffled  every  pen  except  his  own. 
In  such  a  dilemma  the  safest  course  is  to  allow  that  pen  to 
tell  the  story  for  itself ;  or,  rather,  so  much  of  the  story  as,  by 
concentrating  the  attention  of  the  reader  upon  matters  akin  to 
those  which  are  in  frequent  debate  at  home,  may  enable  him 
to  judge  whether  Macaulay  at  the  council-board  and  the  bu- 
reau was  the  equal  of  Macaulay  in  the  senate  and  the  library. 

Examples  of  his  minute-writing  may  with  some  confidence 
be  submitted  to  the  criticism  of  those  whose  experience  of 
public  business  has  taught  them  in  what  a  minute  should 
differ  from  a  dispatch,  a  memorial,  a  report,  and  a  decision. 
His  method  of  applying  general  principles  to  the  circum- 
stances of  a  special  case,  and  of  illustrating  those  principles 
with  just  so  much  literary  ornament  as  would  place  his  views 
in  a  pictorial  form  before  the  minds  of  those  whom  it  was  his 
business  to  convince,  is  strikingly  exhibited  in  the  series  of 
papers  by  means  of  which  he  reconciled  his  colleagues  in  the 
Council,  and  his  masters  in  Leadenhall  Street,  to  the  removal 
of  the  modified  censorship  which  existed  in  India  previously 
to  the  year  1835. 

"It  is  difficult,"  he  writes,  "to  conceive  that  any  measures  can  be  more 
indefensible  than  those  which  I  propose  to  repeal.  It  has  always  been  the 
practice  of  politic  rulers  to  disguise  their  arbitrary  measures  under  pop- 

*  "April  8th,  Lichfield,  Easter-Sunday. — After  the  service  was  ended,  we 
went  over  the  cathedral.  When  I  stood  before  the  famous  children  by 
Chantrey,  I  could  think  only  of  one  thing ;  that,  when  last  I  was  there,  in 
1832,  my  dear  sister  Margaret  was  with  me,  and  that  she  was  greatly  af- 
fected. I  could  not  command  my  tears,  and  was  forced  to  leave  our  party 
and  walk  about  by  myself." — Macaulay's  Journal  for  the  year  1849. 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY. 

ular  forms  and  names.  The  conduct  of  the  Indian  Government  with  re- 
spect to  the  Press  has  been  altogether  at  variance  with  this  trite  and  ob- 
vious maxim.  The  newspapers  have  for  years  been  allowed  as  ample  a 
measure  of  practical  liberty  as  that  which  they  enjoy  in  England.  If  any 
inconveniences  arise  from  the  liberty  of  political  discussion,  to  those  in- 
conveniences we  are  already  subject.  Yet  while  our  policy  is  thus  liberal 
and  indulgent,  we  are  daily  reproached  and  taunted  with  the  bondage  in 
which  we  keep  the  Press.  A  strong  feeling  on  this  subject  appears  to  ex- 
ist throughout  the  European  community  here ;  and  the  loud  complaints 
which  have  lately  been  uttered  are  likely  to  produce  a  considerable  effect 
on  the  English  people,  who  will  see  at  a  glance  that  the  law  is  oppressive, 
and  who  will  not  know  how  completely  it  is  inoperative. 

"To  impose  strong  restraints  on  political  discussion  is  an  intelligible 
policy,  and  may  possibly — though  I  greatly  doubt  itr— be  in  some  coun- 
tries a  wise  policy.  But  this  is  not  the  point  at  issue.  The  question  bfe- 
fore  us  is  not  whether  the  Press  shall  be  free,  but  whether,  being  free,  it 
shall  be  called  free.  It  is  surely  mere  madness  in  a  government  to  make 
itself  unpopular  for  nothing;  to  be  indulgent,  and  yet  to  disguise  its  in- 
dulgence under  such  outward  forms  as  bring  on  it  the  reproach  of  tyran- 
ny. Yet  this  is  now  our  policy.  We  are  exposed  to  all  the  dangers — dan- 
gers, I  conceive,  greatly  overrated — of  a  free  Press ;  and  at  the  same  time 
we  contrive  to  incur  all  the  opprobrium  of  a  censorship.  It  is  universally 
allowed  that  the  licensing  system,  as  at  present  administered,  does  not 
keep  any  man  who  can  buy  a  press  from  publishing  the  bitterest  and  most 
sarcastic  reflections  on  any  public  measure  or  any  public  functionary.  Yet 
the  very  words  'license  to  print'  have  a  sound  hateful  to  the  ears  of  En- 
glishmen in  every  part  of  the  globe.  It  is  unnecessary  to  inquire  whether 
this  feeling  be  reasonable ;  whether  the  petitioners  who  have  so  strongly 
pressed  this  matter  on  our  consideration  would  not  have  shown  a  better 
judgment  if  they  had  been  content  with  their  practical  liberty,  and  had 
reserved  their  murmurs  for  practical  grievances.  The  question  for  us  is 
not  what  they  ought  to  do,  but  what  we  ought  to  do ;  not  whether  it  be 
wise  in  them  to  complain  when  they  suffer  no  injury,  but  whether  it  be 
wise  in  us  to  incur  odium  unaccompanied  by  the  smallest  accession  of  se- 
curity or  of  power. 

"  One  argument  only  has  been  urged  in  defense  of  the  present  system. 
It  is  admitted  that  the  Press  of  Bengal  has  long  been  suffered  to  enjoy 
practical  liberty,  and  that  nothing  but  an  extreme  emergency  could  jus- 
tify the  Government  in  curtailing  that  liberty.  But,  it  is  said,  such  an 
emergency  may  arise,  and  the  Government  ought  to  retain  in  its  hands  the 
power  of  adopting,  in  that  event,  the  sharp,  prompt,  and  decisive  measures 
which  may  be  necessary  for  the  preservation  of  the  empire.  But  when  we 
consider  with  what  vast  powers,  extending  over  all  classes  of  people,  Par- 
liament has  armed  the  governor-general  in  council,  and,  in  extreme  cases, 


346  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  vi. 

the  governor-general  alone,  we  shall  probably  be  inclined  to  allow  little 
•weight  to  this  argument.  No  government  in  the  world  is  better  provided 
with  the  means  of  meeting  extraordinary  dangers  by  extraordinary  pre- 
cautions. Five  persons,  who  may  be  brought  together  in  half  an  hour, 
whose  deliberations  are  secret,  who  are  not  shackled  by  any  of  those  forms 
which  elsewhere  delay  legislative  measures,  can,  in  a  single  sitting,  make 
a  law  for  stopping  every  press  in  India.  Possessing  as  we  do  the  unques- 
tionable power  to  interfere,  whenever  the  safety  of  the  state  may  require 
it,  with  overwhelming  rapidity  and  energy,  we  surely  ought  not,  in  quiet 
times,  to  be  constantly  keeping  the  offensive  form  and  ceremonial  of  des- 
potism before  the  eyes  of  those  whom,  nevertheless,  we  permit  to  enjoy  the 
substance  of  freedom." 

Eighteen  months  elapsed,  during  which  the  Calcutta  Press 
found  occasion  to  attack  Macaulay  with  a  breadth  and  ferocity 
of  calumny  such  as  few  public  men,  in  any  age  and  country, 
have  ever  endured,  and  none,  perhaps,  have  ever  forgiven. 
There  were,  many  mornings  when  it  was  impossible  for  him 
to  allow  the  newspapers  to  lie  about  his  sister's  drawing-room. 
The  editor  of  the  periodical  which  called  itself,  and  had  a  right 
to  call  itself,  the  Friend  of  India,  undertook  to  shame  his 
brethren  by  publishing  a  collection  of  their  invectives ;  but  it 
was  very  soon  evident  that  no  decent  journal  could  venture  to 
foul  its  pages  by  reprinting  the  epithets  and  the  anecdotes 
which  constituted  the  daily  greeting  of  the  literary  men  of 
Calcutta  to  their  fellow-craftsmen  of  the  Edinburgh  Review. 
But  Macaulay's  cheery  and  robust  common  sense  earned  him 
safe  and  sound  through  an  ordeal  which  has  broken  down 
sterner  natures  than  his,  and  imbittered  as  stainless  lives. 
The  allusions  in  his  correspondence,  all  the  more  surely  be- 
cause they  are  brief  and  rare,  indicate  that  the  torrent  of  ob- 
loquy to  which  he  was  exposed  interfered  neither  with  his 
temper  nor  with  his  happiness ;  and  how  little  he  allowed  it 
to  disturb  his  judgment,  or  distort  his  public  spirit,  is  proved 
by  the  tone  of  a  state  paper,  addressed  to  the  Court  of  Direct- 
ors in  September,  1836,  in  which  he  eagerly  vindicates  the 
freedom  of  the  Calcutta  Press,  at  a  time  when  the  writers  of 
that  Press,  on  the  days  when  they  were  pleased  to  be  decent, 
could  find  for  him  no  milder  appellations  than  those  of  cheat, 
swindler,  and  charlatan. 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  347 

"  I  regret  that  on  this,  or  on  any  subject,  my  opinion  should  differ  from 
that  of  the  honorable  court.  But  I  still  conscientiously  think  that  we 
acted  wisely  when  we  passed  the  law  on  the  subject  of  the  Press ;  and  I 
am  quite  certain  that  we  should  act  most  unwisely  if  we  were  now  to  re- 
peal that  law. 

"  I  must,  in  the  first  place,  venture  to  express  an  opinion  that  the  im- 
portance of  that  question  is  greatly  overrated  by  persons,  even  the  best  in- 
formed and  the  most  discerning,  who  are  not  actually  on  the  spot.  It  is 
most  justly  observed  by  the  honorable  court  that  many  of  the  arguments 
which  may  be  urged  in  favor  of  a  free  Press  at  home  do  not  apply  to  this 
country.  But  it  is,  I  conceive,  no  less  true  that  scarcely  any  of  those  argu- 
ments which  have  been  employed  in  Europe  to  defend  restrictions  on  the 
Press  apply  to  a  press  such  as  that  of  India. 

"  In  Europe,  and  especially  in  England,  the  Press  is  an  engine  of  tremen- 
dous power,  both  for  good  and  for  evil.  The  most  enlightened  men,  after 
long  experience  both  of  its  salutary  and  of  its  pernicious  operation,  have 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  good,  on  the  whole,  preponderates.  But 
that  there  is  no  inconsiderable  amount  of  evil  to  be  set  off  against  the  good 
has  never  been  disputed  by  the  warmest  friend  to  freedom  of  discussion. 

"  In  India  the  Press  is  comparatively  a  very  feeble  engine.  It  does  far 
less  good,  and  far  less  harm,  than  in  Europe.  It  sometimes  renders  useful 
services  to  the  public.  It  sometimes  brings  to  the  notice  of  the  Govern- 
ment evils  the  existence  of  which  would  otherwise  have  been  unknown. 
It  operates,  to  some  extent,  as  a  salutary  check  on  public  functionaries. 
It  does  something  toward  keeping  the  administration  pure.  On  the  other 
hand,  by  misrepresenting  public  measures,  and  by  flattering  the  prejudices 
of  those  who  support  it,  it  sometimes  produces  a  slight  degree  of  excite- 
ment in  a  very  small  portion  of  the  community. 

"How  slight  that  excitement  is,  even  when  it  reaches  its  greatest 
height,  and  how  little  the  Government  has  to  fear  from  it,  no  person  whose 
observation  has  been  confined  to  European  societies  will  readily  believe. 
In  this  country  the  number  of  English  residents  is  very  small,  and  of  that 
small  number  a  great  proportion  are  engaged  in  the  service  of  the  state, 
and  are  most  deeply  interested  in  the  maintenance  of  existing  institu- 
tions. Even  those  English  settlers  who  are  not  in  the  service  of  the  Gov- 
ernment have  a  strong  interest  in  its  stability.  They  are  few :  they  are 
thinly  scattered  among  a  vast  population  with  whom  they  have  neither 
language,  nor  religion,  nor  morals,  nor  manners,  nor  color,  in  common : 
they  feel  that  any  convulsion  which  should  overthrow  the  existing  order 
of  things  would  be  ruinous  to  themselves.  Particular  acts  of  the  Govern- 
ment— especially  acts  which  are  mortifying  to  the  pride  of  caste  natural- 
ly felt  by  an  Englishman  in  India — are  often  angrily  condemned  by  these 
persons.  But  every  indigo-planter  in  Tirhoot,  and  every  shop-keeper  in 
Calcutta,  is  perfectly  aware  that  the  downfall  of  the  Government  would 


34:8  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  n. 

be  attended  with  the  destruction  of  his  fortune,  and  with  imminent  hazard 
to  his  life. 

"  Thus,  among  the  English  inhabitants  of  India,  there  are  no  fit  subjects 
for  that  species  of  excitement  which  the  Press  sometimes  produces  at 
home.  There  is  no  class  among  them  analogous  to  that  vast  body  of  En- 
glish laborers  and  artisans  whose  minds  are  rendered  irritable  by  frequent 
distress  and  privation,  and  on  whom,  therefore,  the  sophistry  and  rhetoric 
of  bad  men  often  produce  a  tremendous  effect.  The  English  papers  here 
might  be  infinitely  more  seditious  than  the  most  seditious  that  were  ever 
printed  in  London  without  doing  harm  to  any  thing  but  their  own  circu- 
lation. The  fire  goes  out  for  want  of  some  combustible  material  on  which 
to  seize.  How  little  reason  would  there  be  to  apprehend  danger  to  order 
and  property  in  England  from  the  most  inflammatory  writings,  if  those 
writings  were  read  only  by  ministers  of  state,  commissioners  of  the  cus- 
toms and  excise,  judges  and  masters  in  chancery,  upper  clerks  in  Govern- 
ment offices,  officers  in  the  army,  bankers,  landed  proprietors,  barristers, 
and  master-manufacturers !  The  most  timid  politician  would  not  antici- 
pate the  smallest  evil  from  the  most  seditious  libels,  if  the  circulation  of 
those  libels  were  confined  to  such  a  class  of  readers ;  and  it  is  to  such  a 
class  of  readers  that  the  circulation  of  the  English  newspapers  in  India  is 
almost  entirely  confined." 

The  motive  for  the  scurrility  with  which  Macaulay  was  as- 
sailed by  a  handful  of  sorry  scribblers  was  his  advocacy  of  the 
act,  familiarly  known  as  the  Black  Act,  which  withdrew  from 
British  subjects  resident  in  the  provinces  their  so-called  privi- 
lege of  bringing  civil  appeals  before  the  Supreme  Court  at  Cal- 
cutta. Such  appeals  were  thenceforward  to  be  tried  by  the 
Sudder  Court,  which  was  manned  by  the  company's  judges, 
"  all  of  them  English  gentlemen  of  liberal  education :  as  free 
as  even  the  judges  of  the  Supreme  Court  from  any  imputa- 
tion of  personal  corruption,  and  selected  by  the  Government 
from  a  body  which  abounds  in  men  as  honorable  and  as  in- 
telligent as  ever  were  employed  in  the  service  of  any  state." 
The  change  embodied  in  the  act  was  one  of  little  practical 
moment ;  but  it  excited  an  opposition  based  upon  arguments 
and  assertions  of  such  a  nature  that  the  success  or  failure  of 
the  proposed  measure  became  a  question  of  high  and  undeni- 
able importance. 

"In  my  opinion,"  writes  Macaulay, "  the  chief  reason  for  preferring  the 
Sudder  Court  is  this — that  it  is  the  court  which  we  have  provided  to  ad- 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  349 

minister  justice,  in  the  last  resort,  to  the  great  body  of  the  people.  If  it  is 
not  fit  for  that  purpose,  it  ought  to  be  made  so.  If  it  is  fit  to  administer 
justice  to  the  great  body  of  the  people,  why  should  we  exempt  a  mere  hand- 
ful of  settlers  from  its  jurisdiction?  There  certainly  is,  I  will  not  say  the 
reality,  but  the  semblance,  of  partiality  and  tyranny  in  the  distinction 
made  by  the  Charter  Act  of  1813.  That  distinction  seems  to  indicate  a 
notion  that  the  natives  of  India  may  well  put  up  with  something  less  than 
justice,  or  that  Englishmen  in  India  have  a  title  to  something  more  than 
justice.  If  we  give  our  own  countrymen  an  appeal  to  the  King's  Courts, 
in  cases  in  which  all  others  are  forced  to  be  contented  with  the  Company's 
Courts,  we  do,  in  fact,  cry  down  the  Company's  Courts.  We  proclaim  to 
the  Indian  people  that  there  are  two  sorts  of  justice — a  coarse  one,  which 
we  think  good  enough  for  them,  and  another  of  superior  quality,  which  we 
keep  for  ourselves.  If  we  take  pains  to  show  that  we  distrust  our  highest 
courts,  how  can  we  expect  that  the  natives  of  the  country  will  place  confi- 
dence in  them  ? 

"  The  draft  of  the  act  was  published,  and  was,  as  I  fully  expected,  not. 
unfavorably  received  by  the  British  in  the  Mofussil.*  Seven  weeks  have 
elapsed  since  the  notification  took  place.  Time  has  been  allowed  for  peti- 
tions from  the  farthest  corners  of  the  territories  subject  to  this  presidency. 
But  I  have  heard  of  only  one  attempt  in  the  Mofussil  to  get  up  a  remon- 
strance ;  and  the  Mofussil  newspapers  which  I  have  seen,  though  generally 
disposed  to  cavil  at  all  the  acts  of  the  Government,  have  spoken  favorably 
of  this  measure. 

"  In  Calcutta  the  case  has  been  somewhat  different ;  and  this  is  a  re- 
markable fact.  The  British  inhabitants  of  Calcutta  are  the  only  British- 
born  subjects  in  Bengal  who  will  not  be  affected  by  the  proposed  act,  and 
they  are  the  only  British  subjects  in  Bengal  who  have  expressed  the  small- 
est objection  to  it.  The  clamor,  indeed,  has  proceeded  from  a  very  small 
portion  of  the  society  of  Calcutta.  The  objectors  have  not  ventured  to 
call  a  public  meeting,  and  their  memorial  has  obtained  very  few  signa- 
tures; but  they  have  attempted  to  make  up  by  noise  and  virulence  for 
what  has  been  wanting  in  strength.  It  may  at  first  sight  appear  strange 
that  a  law,  which  is  not  unwelcome  to  those  who  are  to  live  under  it,  should 
excite  such  acrimonious  feelings  among  people  who  are  wholly  exempted 
from  its  operation.  But  the  explanation  is  simple.  Though  nobody  who 
resides  at  Calcutta  will  be  sued  in  the  Mofussil  courts,  many  people  who 
reside  at  Calcutta  have,  or  wish  to  have,  practice  in  the  Supreme  Court. 
Great  exertions  have  accordingly  been  made,  though  with  little  success,  to 
excite  a  feeling  against  this  measure  among  the  English  inhabitants  of 
Calcutta. 

*  The  term  "Mofussil"  is  used  to  denote  the  provinces  of  the  Bengal 
Presidency,  as  opposed  to  the  capital. 


350  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  vi. 

The  political  phraseology  of  the  English  in  India  is  the  same  with  the 
political  phraseology  of  our  countrymen  at  home ;  but  it  is  never  to  be 
forgotten  that  the  same  words  stand  for  very  different  things  at  London 
and  at  Calcutta.  We  hear  much  about  public  opinion,  the  love  of  liberty, 
the  influence  of  the  Press.  But  we  must  remember  that  public  opinion 
means  the  opinion  of  five  hundred  persons  who  have  no  interest,  feeling,  or 
taste  in  common  with  the  fifty  millions  among  whom  they  live ;  that  the 
love  of  liberty  means  the  strong  objection  which  the  five  hundred  feel  to 
every  measure  which  can  prevent  them  from  acting  as  they  choose  toward 
the  fifty  millions ;  that  the  Press  is  altogether  supported  by  the  five  hun- 
dred, and  has  no  motive  to  plead  the  cause  of  the  fifty  millions. 

"  We  know  that  India  can  not  have  a  free  government.  But  she  may 
have  the  next  best  thing  —  a  firm  and  impartial  despotism.  The  worst 
state  in  which  she  can  possibly  be  placed  is  that  in  which  the  memorialists 
would  place  her.  They  call  on  us  to  recognize  them  as  a  privileged  order 
of  freemen  in  the  midst  of  slaves.  It  was  for  the  purpose  of  averting  this 
great  evil  that  Parliament,  at  the  same  time  at  which  it  suffered  English- 
men to  settle  in  India,  armed  us  with  those  large  powers  which,  in  my  opin- 
ion, we  ill  deserve  to  possess  if  we  have  not  the  spirit  to  use  them  now." 

Macaulay  had  made  two  mistakes.  He  had  yielded  to  the 
temptation  of  imputing  motives,  a  habit  which  the  Spectator 
newspaper  has  pronounced  to  be  his  one  intellectual  vice,  fine- 
ly adding  that  it  is  "  the  vice  of  rectitude ;"  and  he  had  done 
worse  still,  for  he  had  challenged  his  opponents  to  a  course  of 
agitation.  They  responded  to  the  call.  After  preparing  the 
way  by  a  string  of  communications  to  the  public  journals,  in 
which  their  objections  to  the  act  were  set  forth  at  enormous 
length,  and  with  as  much  point  and  dignity  as  can  be  obtained 
by  a  copious  use  of  italics  and  capital  letters,  they  called  a 
public  meeting,  the  proceedings  at  which  were  almost  too  lu- 
dicrous for  description.  "  I  have  seen,"  said  one  of  the  speak- 
ers, "  at  a  Hindoo  festival,  &  naked,  disheveled  figure,  his  face 
painted  with  grotesque  colors,  and  his  long  hair  besmeared 
with  dirt  and  ashes.  His  tongue  was  pierced  with  an  iron 
bar,  and  his  breast  was  scorched  by  the  fire  from  the  burning 
altar  which  rested  on  his  stomach.  This  revolting  figure,  cov- 
ered with  ashes,  dirt,  and  bleeding  voluntary  wounds,  may  the 
next  moment  ascend  the  S  udder  bench,  and  in  a  suit  between 
a  Hindoo  and  an  Englishman  think  it  an  act  of  sanctity  to  de- 
cide against  law  in  favor  of  the  professor  of  the  true  faith." 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  351 

Another  gentleman,  Mr.  Longueville  Clarke,  reminded  "  the 
tyrant "  that 

There  yawns  the  sack,  and  yonder  rolls  the  sea. 

"  Mr.  Macaulay  may  treat  this  as  an  idle  threat ;  but  his 
knowledge  of  history  will  supply  him  with  many  examples  of 
what  has  occurred  when  resistance  has  been  provoked  by  mild- 
er instances  of  despotism  than  the  decimation  of  a  people." 
This  pretty  explicit  recommendation  to  lynch  a  member  of 
council  was  received  with  rapturous  applause. 

At  length  arose  a  Captain  Biden,  who  spoke  as  follows : 
"  Gentlemen,  I  come  before  you  in  the  character  of  a  British 
seaman,  and  on  that  ground  claim  your  attention  for  a  few 
moments.  Gentlemen,  there  has  been  much  talk  during  the 
evening  of  laws,  and  regulations,  and  rights,  and  liberties; 
but  you  all  seem  to  have  forgotten  that  this  is  the  anniversary 
of  the  glorious  Battle  of  "Waterloo.  I  beg  to  propose,  and  I 
call  on  the  statue  of  Lord  Cornwallis  and  yourselves  to  join 
me  in,  three  cheers  for  the  Duke  of  Wellington  and  the  Bat- 
tle of  Waterloo."  The  audience,  who  by  this  time  were  pretty 
well  convinced  that  no  grievance  which  could  possibly  result 
under  the  Black  Act  could  equal  the  horrors  of  a  crowd  in  the 
Town -hall  of  Calcutta  during  the  latter  half  of  June,  gladly 
caught  at  the  diversion,  and  made  noise  enough  to  satisfy  even 
the  gallant  orator.  The  business  was  brought  to  a  hurried 
close,  and  the  meeting  was  adjourned  till  the  following  week. 

But  the  luck  of  Macaulay's  adversaries  pursued  them  still. 
One  of  the  leading  speakers  at  the  adjourned  meeting,  him- 
self a  barrister,  gave  another  barrister  the  lie,  and  a  tumult 
ensued  which  Captain  Biden  in  vain  endeavored  to  calm  by 
his  favorite  remedy.  "  The  opinion  at  Madras,  Bombay,  and 
Canton,"  said  he  (and  in  so  saying  he  uttered  the  only  sen- 
tence of  wisdom  which  either  evening  had  produced),  "  is  that 
there  is  no  public  opinion  at  Calcutta  but  the  lawyers.  And 
now — who  has  the  presumption  to  call  it  a  burlesque? — let's 
give  three  cheers  for  the  Battle  of  Waterloo,  and  then  I'll  pro- 
pose an  amendment  which  shall  go  into  the  whole  question." 
The  chairman,  who  certainly  had  earned  the  vote  of  thanks 


352  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  n. 

for  "his  very  extraordinary  patience"  which  Captain  Biden 
was  appropriately  selected  to  move,  contrived  to  get  resolu- 
tions passed  in  favor  of  petitioning  Parliament  and  the  Home 
Government  against  the  obnoxious  act. 

The  next  few  weeks  were  spent  by  the  leaders  of  the  move- 
ment in  squabbling  over  the  preliminaries  of  duels  that  nev- 
er came  off,  and  applying  for  criminal  informations  for  libel 
against  each  other,  which  their  beloved  Supreme  Court  very 
judiciously  refused  to  grant ;  but  in  the  course  of  time  the  pe- 
titions were  signed,  and  an  agent  was  selected  who  undertook 
to  convey  them  to  England.  On  the  22d  of  March,  1838, 
a  committee  of  inquiry  into  the  operation  of  the  act  was 
moved  for  in  the  House  of  Commons ;  but  there  was  noth- 
ing in  the  question  which  tempted  honorable  members  to 
lay  aside  their  customary  indifference  with  regard  to  Indian 
controversies,  and  the  motion  fell  through  without  a  division. 
The  House  allowed  the  Government  to  have  its  own  way  in 
the  matter ;  and  any  possible  hesitation  on  the  part  of  the 
ministers  was  borne  down  by  the  emphasis  with  which  Mac- 
aulay  claimed  their  support.  "  I  conceive,"  he  wrote,  "  that 
the  act  is  good  in  itself,  and  that  the  time  for  passing  it  has 
been  well  chosen.  The  strongest  reason,  however,  for  passing 
it,  is  the  nature  of  the  opposition  which  it  has  experienced. 
The  organs  of  that  opposition  repeated  every  day  that  the  En- 
glish were  the  conquerors  and  the  lords  of  the  country ;  the 
dominant  race ;  the  electors  of  the  House  of  Commons,  whose 
power  extends  both  over  the  company  at  home  and  over  the 
governor-general  in  council  here.  The  constituents  of  the 
British  Legislature,  they  told  us,  were  not  to  be  bound  by  laws 
made  by  any  inferior  authority.  The  firmness  with  which  the 
Government  withstood  the  idle  outcry  of  two  or  three  hun- 
dred people,  about  a  matter  with  which  they  had  nothing  to 
do,  was  designated  as  insolent  defiance  of  public  opinion.  We 
were  enemies  of  freedom,  because  we  would  not  suffer  a  small 
white  aristocracy  to  domineer  over  millions.  How  utterly  at 
variance  these  principles  are  with  reason,  with  justice,  with 
the  honor  of  the  British  Government,  and  with  the  dearest  in- 
terests of  the  Indian  people,  it  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  point 


1834-'38.]  LOED  MACAULAY.  353 

out.  For  myself,  I  can  only  say  that  if  the  Government  is  to 
be  conducted  on  such  principles,  I  am  utterly  disqualified,  by 
all  my  feelings  and  opinions,  from  bearing  any  part  in  it,  and 
can  not  too  soon  resign  my  place  to  some  person  better  fitted 
to  hold  it." 

It  is  fortunate  for  India  that  a  man  with  the  tastes  and  the 
training  of  Macaulay  came  to  her  shores  as  one  vested  with 
authority,  and  that  he  came  at  the  moment  when  he  did ;  for 
that  moment  was  the  very  turning-point  of  her  intellectual 
progress.  All  educational  action  had  been  at  a  stand  for 
some  time  back,  on  account  of  an  irreconcilable  difference  of 
opinion  in  the  Committee  of  Public  Instruction ;  which  was 
divided,  five  against  five,  on  either  side  of  a  controversy,  vital, 
inevitable,  admitting  of  neither  postponement  nor  compro- 
mise, and  conducted  by  both  parties  with  a  pertinacity  and  a 
warmth  that  was  nothing  but  honorable  to  those  concerned. 
Half  of  the  members  were  for  maintaining  and  extending  the 
old  scheme  of  encouraging  Oriental  learning  by  stipends  paid 
to  students  in  Sanscrit,  Persian,  and  Arabic ;  and  by  liberal 
grants  for  the  publication  of  works  in  those  languages.  The 
other  half  were  in  favor  of  teaching  the  elements  of  knowl- 
edge in  the  vernacular  tongues,  and  the  higher  branches  in 
English.  On  his  arrival,  Macaulay  was  appointed  president 
of  the  committee ;  but  he  declined  to  take  any  active  part  in 
its  proceedings  until  the  Government  had  finally  pronounced 
on  the  question  at  issue.  Late  in  January,  1835,  the  advo- 
cates of  the  two  systems,  than  whom  ten  abler  men  could  not 
be  found  in  the  service,  laid  their  opinions  before  the  Supreme 
Council ;  and,  on  the  2d  of  February,  Macaulay,  as  a  member 
of  that  council,  produced  a  minute  in  which  he  adopted  and 
defended  the  views  of  the  English  section  in  the  committee. 

"  How  stands  the  case  ?  We  have  to  educate  a  people  who  can  not  at 
present  be  educated  by  means  of  their  mother  tongne.  We  must  teach 
them  some  foreign  language.  The  claims  of  our  own  language  it  is  hard- 
ly necessary  to  recapitulate.  It  stands  pre-eminent  even  among  the  lan- 
guages of  the  West.  It  abounds  with  works  of  imagination  not  inferior 
to  the  noblest  which  Greece  has  bequeathed  to  us ;  with  models  of  every 
species  of  eloquence ;  with  historical  compositions,  which,  considered  mere- 

VOL.  I.— 23 


354  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  VL 

ly  as  narratives,  have  seldom  been  surpassed,  and  -which,  considered  as  ve- 
hicles of  ethical  and  political  instruction,  have  never  been  equaled ;  with 
just  and  lively  representations  of  human  life  and  human  nature ;  with  the 
most  profound  speculations  on  metaphysics,  morals,  government,  jurispru- 
dence, and  trade ;  with  full  and  correct  information  respecting  every  ex- 
perimental science  which  tends  to  preserve  the  health,  to  increase  the  com- 
fort, or  to  expand  the  intellect  of  man.  Whoever  knows  that  language 
has  ready  access  to  all  the  vast  intellectual  wealth  which  all  the  wisest 
nations  of  the  earth  have  created  and  hoarded  in  the  course  of  ninety  gen- 
erations. It  may  safely  be  said  that  the  literature  now  extant  in  that 
language  is  of  far  greater  value  than  all  the  literature  which  three  hun- 
dred years  ago  was  extant  in  all  the  languages  of  the  world  together. 
Nor  is  this  all.  In  India,  English  is  the  language  spoken  by  the  ruling 
class.  It  is  spoken  by  the  higher  class  of  natives  at  the  seats  of  govern- 
ment. It  is  likely  to  become  the  language  of  commerce  throughout  the 
seas  of  the  East.  It  is  the  language  of  two  great  European  communities 
which  are  rising,  the  one  in  the  south  of  Africa,  the  other  in  Australasia ; 
communities  which  are  every  year  becoming  more  important,  and  more 
closely  connected  with  our  Indian  empire.  Whether  we  look  at  the  in- 
trinsic value  of  our  literature,  or  at  the  particular  situation  of  this  coun- 
try, we  shall  see  the  strongest  reason  to  think  that,  of  all  foreign  tongues, 
the  English  tongue  is  that  which  would  be  the  most  useful  to  our  native 
subjects. 

"  The  question  now  before  us  is  simply  whether,  when  it  is  in  our  power 
to  teach  this  language,  we  shall  teach  languages  in  which,  by  universal 
confession,  there  are  no  books  on  any  subject  which  deserve  to  be  com- 
pared to  our  own ;  whether,  when  we  can  teach  European  science,  we  shall 
teach  systems  which,  by  universal  confession,  whenever  they  differ  from 
those  of  Europe,  differ  for  the  worse;  and  whether,  when  we  can  patron- 
ize sound  philosophy  and  true  history,  we  shall  countenance,  at  the  public 
expense,  medical  doctrines  which  would  disgrace  an  English  farrier — as- 
tronomy, which  would  move  laughter  in  the  girls  at  an  English  boarding- 
school — history,  abounding  with  kings  thirty  feet  high,  and  reigns  thirty 
thousand  years  long — and  geography,  made  up  of  seas  of  treacle  and  seas 
of  butter. 

"We  are  not  without  experience  to  guide  us.  History  furnishes  several 
analogous  cases,  and  they  all  teach  the  same  lesson.  There  are  in  modern 
times,  to  go  no  further,  two  memorable  instances  of  a  great  impulse  given 
to  the  mind  of  a  whole  society — of  prejudice  overthrown — of  knowledge 
diffused — of  taste  purified — of  arts  and  sciences  planted  in  countries  which 
had  recently  been  ignorant  and  barbarous. 

"  The  first  instance  to  which  I  refer  is  the  great  revival  of  letters  among 
the  Western  nations  at  the  close  of  the  fifteenth  and  the  beginning  of  the 
sixteenth  century.  At  that  time  almost  every  thing  that  was  worth  read- 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  355 

ing  was  contained  in  the  writings  of  the  ancient  Greeks  and  Romans. 
Had  our  ancestors  acted  as  tbe  Committee  of  Public  Instruction  has  hith- 
erto acted  ;  had  they  neglected  the  language  of  Cicero  and  Tacitus ;  had 
they  confined  their  attention  to  the  old  dialects  of  our  own  island ;  had 
they  printed  nothing  and  taught  nothing  at  the  universities  but  chronicles 
in  Anglo-Saxon  and  romances  in  Norman-French,  would  England  have  been 
what  she  now  is  ?  What  the  Greek  and  Latin  were  to  the  contemporaries 
of  More  and  Ascham,  our  tongue  is  to  the  people  of  India.  The  literature 
of  England  is  now  more  valuable  than  that  of  classical  antiquity.  I  doubt 
whether  the  Sanscrit  literature  be  as  valuable  as  that  of  our  Saxon  and 
Norman  progenitors.  In  some  departments — in  history,  for  example — I 
am  certain  that  it  is  much  less  so. 

"Another  instance  may  be  said  to  be  still  before  our  eyes.  Within  the 
last  hundred  and  twenty  years,  a  nation  which  had  previously  been  in  a 
state  as  barbarous  as  that  in  which  our  ancestors  were  before  the  Crusades, 
has  gradually  emerged  from  the  ignorance  in  which  it  was  sunk,  and  has 
taken  its  place  among  civilized  communities.  I  speak  of  Russia.  There 
is  now  in  that  country  a  large  educated  class,  abounding  with  persons  fit 
to  serve  the  state  in  the  highest  functions,  and  in  no  wise  inferior  to  the 
most  accomplished  men  who  adorn  the  best  circles  of  Paris  and  London. 
There  is  reason  to  hope  that  this  vast  empire,  which  in  the  time  of  our 
grandfathers  was  probably  behind  the  Punjab,  may,  in  the  time  of  our 
grandchildren,  be  pressing  close  on  France  and  Britain  in  the  career  of  im- 
provement. And  how  was  this  change  effected?  Not  by  flattering  na- 
tional prejudices;  not  by  feeding  the  mind  of  the  young  Muscovite  with 
the  old  woman's  stories  which  his  rude  fathers  had  believed ;  not  by  fill- 
ing his  head  with  lying  legends  about  St.  Nicholas ;  not  by  encouraging 
him  to  study  the  great  question,  whether  the  world  was  or  was  not  created 
on  the  13th  of  September ;  not  by  calling  him  '  a  learned  native '  when  he 
has  mastered  all  these  points  of  knowledge ;  but  by  teaching  him  those 
foreign  languages  in  which  the  greatest  mass  of  information  had  been  laid 
up,  and  thus  putting  all  that  information  within  his  reach.  The  languages 
of  Western  Europe  civilized  Russia.  I  can  not  doubt  that  they  will  do 
for  the  Hindoo  what  they  have  done  for  the  Tartar." 

This  minute,  which  in  its  original  shape  is  long  enough  for 
an  article  in  a  quarterly  review,  and  as  business-like  as  a  re- 
port of  a  royal  commission,  set  the  question  at  rest  at  once 
and  forever.  On  the  7th  of  March,  1835,  Lord  William  Ben- 
tinck  decided  that  "  the  great  object  of  the  British  Govern- 
ment ought  to  be  the  promotion  of  European  literature  and 
science  among  the  natives  of  India ;"  two  of  the  Orientalists 
retired  from  the  Committee  of  Public  Instruction ;  several 


356  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  \i 

new  members,  both  English  and  native,  were  appointed ;  and 
Macaulay  entered  upon  the  functions  of  president  with  an  en- 
ergy and  assiduity  which  in  his  case  were  an  infallible  proof 
that  his  work  was  to  his  mind. 

The  post  was  no  sinecure.  It  was  an  arduous  task  to  plan, 
found,  and  construct,  in  all  its  grades,  the  education  of  such  a 
country  as  India.  The  means  at  Macaulay's  disposal  were  ut- 
terly inadequate  for  the  undertaking  on  which  he  was  engaged. 
Nothing  resembling  an  organized  staff  was  as  yet  in  existence. 
There  were  no  inspectors  of  schools.  There  were  no  training 
colleges  for  masters.  There  were  no  boards  of  experienced 
managers.  The  machinery  consisted  of  voluntary  committees 
acting  on  the  spot,  and  corresponding  directly  with  the  super- 
intending body  at  Calcutta.  Macaulay  rose  to  the  occasion, 
and  threw  himself  into  the  routine  of  administration  and  con- 
trol with  zeal  sustained  by  diligence  and  tempered  by  tact. 
"  We  were  hardly  prepared,"  said  a  competent  critic,  "  for  the 
amount  of  conciliation  which  he  evinces  in  dealing  with  irri- 
table colleagues  and  subordinates,  and  for  the  strong,  sterling, 
practical  common  sense  with  which  he  sweeps  away  rubbish, 
or  cuts  the  knots  of  local  and  departmental  problems."  The 
value  which  a  man  sets  upon  the  objects  of  his  pursuit  is  gen- 
erally in  -proportion  to  the  mastery  which  he  exercises  over 
himself,  and  the  patience  and  forbearance  displayed  in  his 
dealings  with  others.  If  we  judge  Macaulay  by  this  standard, 
it  is  plain  that  he  cared  a  great  deal  more  for  providing  our 
Eastern  empire  with  an  educational  outfit  that  would  work 
and  wear  than  he  ever  cared  for  keeping  his  own  seat  in  Par- 
liament, or  pushing  his  own  fortunes  in  Downing  Street. 
Throughout  his  innumerable  minutes,  on  all  subjects,  from 
the  broadest  principles  to  the  narrowest  detail,  he  is  every- 
where free  from  crotchets  and  susceptibilities;  and  every- 
where ready  to  humor  any  person  who  will  make  himself  use- 
ful, and  to  adopt  any  appliance  which  can  be  turned  to  ac- 
count. 

"  I  think  it  highly  probable  that  Mr.  Nicholls  may  be  to  blame,  because 
I  have  seldom  known  a  quarrel  in  which  both  parties  were  not  to  blame. 
But  I  see  no  evidence  that  he  is  so.  Nor  do  I  see  any  evidence  which 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  357 

tends  to  prove  that  Mr.  Nicholls  leads  the  Local  Committee  by  the  nose. 
The  Local  Committee  appear  to  have  acted  with  perfect  propriety,  and  I 
can  not  consent  to  treat  them  in  the  manner  recommended  by  Mr.  Suther- 
land. If  we  appoint  the  colouel  to  be  a  member  of  their  body,  we  shall,  in 
effect,  pass  a  most  severe  censure  on  their  proceedings.  I  dislike  the  sug- 
gestion of  putting  military  men  on  the  committee  as  a  check  on  the  civil- 
ians. Hitherto  we  have  never,  to  the  best  of  my  belief,  been  troubled  by 
any  such  idle  jealousies.  I  would  appoint  the  fittest  men,  without  caring 
to  what  branch  of  the  service  they  belonged,  or  whether  they  belonged  to 
the  service  at  all."* 

Exception  had  been  taken  to  an  applicant  for  a  mastership, 
on  the  ground  that  he  had  been  a  preacher  with  a  strong  turn 
for  proselytizing. 

"  Mr. seems  to  be  so  little  concerned  about  proselytizing,  that  he 

does  not  even  know  how  to  spell  the  word ;  a  circumstance  which,  if  I  did 
not  suppose  it  to  be  a  slip  of  the  pen,  I  should  think  a  more  serious  objec- 
tion than  the  Reverend  which  formerly  stood  before  his  name.  I  am  quite 
content  with  his  assurances." 

In  default  of  better,  Macaulay-  was  always  for  employing 
the  tools  which  came  to  hand.  A  warm  and  consistent  ad- 
vocate of  appointment  by  competitive  examination,  wherever 
a  field  for  competition  existed,  he  was  no  pedantic  slave  to  a 
theory.  In  the  dearth  of  school-masters,  which  is  a  feature  in 
every  infant  educational  system,  he  refused  to  reject  a  candi- 
date who  "  mistook  Argos  for  Corinth,"  and  backed  the  claims 
of  any  aspirant  of  respectable  character  who  could  "read, 
write,  and  work  a  sum." 

"  By  all  means  accept  the  King  of  Oude's  present,  though,  to  be  sure, 
more  detestable  maps  were  never  seen.  One  would  think  that  the  rev- 
enues of  Oude  and  the  treasures  of  Saadut  Ali  might  have  borne  the  ex- 
pense of  producing  something  better  than  a  map  in  which  Sicily  is  joined 
on  to  the  toe  of  Italy,  and  in  which  so  important  an  Eastern  island  as  Java 
does  not  appear  at  all." 

*  This  and  the  following  extracts  are  taken  from  a  volume  of  Macau- 
lay's  Minutes,  "  now  first  collected  from  Records  in  the  Department  of  Pub- 
lic Instruction,  by  H.  Woodrow,  Esq.,  M.A.,  Inspector  of  Schools  at  Calcut- 
ta, and  formerly  Fellow  of  Caius  College,  Cambridge."  The  collection  was 
published  iu  India. 


358  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  vi. 

"As  to  the  corrupting  influence  of  the  zenana,  of  which  Mr.  Trevelyan 
speaks,  I  may  regret  it ;  but  I  own  that  I  cau  not  help  thinking  that  the 
dissolution  of  the  tie  between  parent  and  child  is  as  great  a  moral  evil  as 
can  be  found  in  any  zenana.  In  whatever  degree  infant  schools  relax  that 
tie,  they  do  mischief.  For  my  own  part,  I  would  rather  hear  a  boy  of  three 
years  old  lisp  all  the  bad  words  in  the  language,  than  that  he  should  have 
no  feelings  of  family  affection — that  his  character  should  be  that  which 
must  be  expected  in  one  who  has  had  the  misfortune  of  having  a  school- 
master in  place  of  a  mother." 

'"  I  do  not  see  the  reason  for  establishing  any  limit  as  to  the  age  of 
scholars.  The  phenomena  are  exactly  the  same  which  have  always  been 
found  to  exist  when  a  new  mode  of  education  has  been  rising  into  fashion. 
No  man  of  fifty  now  learus  Greek  with  boys ;  but  in  the  sixteenth  century 
it  was  not  at  all  unusual  to  see  old  doctors  of  divinity  attending  lectures 
side  by  side  with  young  students." 

"  With  respect  to  making  our  college  libraries  circulating  libraries,  there 
is  much  to  be  said  on  both  sides.  If  a  proper  subscription  is  demanded 
from  those  who  have  access  to  them,  and  if  all  that  is  raised  by  this  sub- 
scription is  laid  out  in  adding  to  the  libraries,  the  students  will  be  no 
losers  by  the  plan.  Our  libraries,  the  best  of  them  at  least,  would  be  bet- 
ter than  any  which  would  be  readily  accessible  at  an  up-country  station ; 
and  I  do  not  know  why  we  should  grudge  a  youug  officer  the  pleasure  of 
reading  our  copy  of  Boswell's  '  Life  of  Johnson,'  or  '  Marmontel's  Mem- 
oirs,' if  he  is  willing  to  pay  a  few  rupees  for  the  privilege." 

These  utterances  of  cultured  wisdom,  or  homely  mother 
wit,  are  sometimes  expressed  in  phrases  almost  as  amusing, 
though  not  so  characteristic,  as  those  which  Frederic  the  Great 
used  to  scrawl  on  the  margin  of  reports  and  dispatches  for  the 
information  of  his  secretaries. 

"We  are  a  little  too  indulgent  to  the  whims  of  the  people  in  our  em- 
ploy. We  pay  a  large  sum  to  send  a  master  to  a  distant  station.  He  dis- 
likes the  place.  The  collector  is  uncivil ;  the  surgeon  quarrels  with  him ; 
and  he  must  be  moved.  The  expenses  of  the  journey  have  to  be  defrayed. 
Another  man  is  to  be  transferred  from  a  place  where  he  is  comfortable  and 
useful.  Our  masters  run  from  station  to  station  at  our  cost,  as  vaporized 
ladies  at  home  run  about  from  spa  to  spa.  All  situations  have  their  dis- 
comforts ;  and  there  are  times  when  we  all  wish  that  our  lot  had  been  cast 
in  some  other  line  of  life,  or  in  some  other  place." 

"With  regard  to  a  proposed  coat  of  arms  for  Hooghly  Col- 
lege, he  says : 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  359 

"  I  do  not  see  why  the  mummeries  of  European  heraldry  should  be  in- 
troduced into  any  part  of  our  Indian  system.  Heraldry  is  not  a  science 
which  has  any  eternal  rules.  It  is  a  system  of  arbitrary  canons,  origina- 
ting in  pure  caprice.  Nothing  can  be  more  absurd  and  grotesque  than  ar- 
morial bearings,  considered  in  themselves.  Certain  recollections,  certain 
associations,  make  them  interesting  in  many  cases  to  an  Englishman ;  but 
in  those  recollections  and  associations  the  natives  of  India  do  not  par- 
ticipate. A  lion  rampant,  with  a  folio  in  his  paw,  with  a  man  standing 
on  each  side  of  him,  with  a  telescope  over  his  head,  and  with  a  Persian 
motto  under  his  feet,  must  seem  to  them  either  very  mysterious  or  very 
absurd." 

In  a  discussion  on  the  propriety  of  printing  some  books  of 
Oriental  science,  Macaulay  writes : 

"  I  should  be  sorry  to  say  any  thing  disrespectful  of  that  liberal  and 
generous  enthusiasm  for  Oriental  literature  which  appears  in  Mr.  Suther- 
land's minute ;  but  I  own  that  I  can  not  think  that  we  ought  to  be  guided 
in  the  distribution  of  the  small  sum  which  the  Government  has  allotted 
for  the  purpose  of  education  by  considerations  which  seem  a  little  roman- 
tic. That  the  Saracens  a  thousand  years  ago  cultivated  mathematical  sci- 
ence is  hardly,  I  think,  a  reason  for  our  spending  any  money  in  transla- 
ting English  treatises  on  mathematics  into  Arabic.  Mr.  Sutherland  would 
probably  think  it  very  strange  if  we  were  to  urge  the  destruction  of  the 
Alexandrian  Library  as  a  reason  against  patronizing  Arabic  literature  in 
the  nineteenth  century.  The  undertaking  may  be,  as  Mr.  Sutherland  con- 
ceives, a  great  national  work.  So  is  the  breakwater  at  Madias.  But  un- 
der the  orders  which  we  have  received  from  the  Government,  we  have  just 
as  little  to  do  with  one  as  with  the  other." 

Now  and  then  a  stroke  aimed  at  Hooghly  College  hits 
nearer  home.  That  men  of  thirty  should  be  bribed  to  con- 
tinue their  education  into  mature  life  "seems  very  absurd. 
Moghal  Jan  has  been  paid  to  learn  something  during  twelve 
years.  We  are  told  that  he  is  lazy  and  stupid ;  but  there  are 
hopes  that  in  four  years  more  he  will  have  completed  his 
course  of  study.  We  have  had  quite  enough  of  these  lazy, 
stupid  school-boys  of  thirty." 

"  I  must  frankly  own  that  I  do  not  like  the  list  of  books.  Grammars  of 
rhetoric  and  grammars  of  logic  are  among  the  most  useless  furniture  of  a 
shelf.  Give  a  boy  'Robinson  Crusoe.'  That  is  worth  all  the  grammars 
of  rhetoric  and  logic  in  the  world.  We  ought  to  procure  such  books  as 
are  likely  to  give  the  children  a  taste  for  the  literature  of  the  West ;  not 


360  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OP  [CHAP.  n. 

books  filled  with  idle  distinctions  and  definitions  which  every  man  who 
has  learned  them  makes  haste  to  forget.  Who  ever  reasoned  better  for 
having  been  taught  the  difference  between  a  syllogism  and  an  enthy- 
meme  ?  Who  ever  composed  with  greater  spirit  and  elegance  because  he 
could  define  an  oxymoron  or  an  aposiopesis  ?  I  am  not  joking,  but  writ- 
ing quite  seriously,  when  I  say  that  I  would  much  rather  order  a  hundred 
copies  of  'Jack  the  Giant-killer'  for  our  schools  than  a  hundred  copies  of 
any  grammar  of  rhetoric  or  logic  that  ever  was  written." 

"  Goldsmith's  Histories  of  Greece  and  Rome  are  miserable  performances, 
and  I  do  not  at  all  like  to  lay  out  £50  on  them,  even  after  they  have  re- 
ceived all  Mr.  Pinnock's  improvements.  I  must  own,  too,  that  I  think  the 
order  for  globes  and  other  instruments  unnecessarily  large.  To  lay  out 
£324  at  once  on  globes  alone,  useful  as  I  acknowledge  those  articles  to  be, 
seems  exceedingly  profuse,  when  we  have  only  about  £3000  a  year  for  all 
purposes  of  English  education.  One  twelve-inch  or  eighteen-iuch  globe 
for  each  school  is  quite  enough ;  and  we  ought  not,  I  thiuk,  to  order  six- 
teen such  globes  when  we  are  about  to  establish  only  seven  schools.  Use- 
ful as  the  telescopes,  the  theodolites,  and  the  other  scientific  instruments 
mentioned  in  the  indent  undoubtedly  are,  we  must  consider  that  four  or 
five  such  instruments  run  away  with  a  year's  salary  of  a  school-master, 
and  that  if  we  purchase  them  it  will  be  necessary  to  defer  the  establish- 
ment of  schools." 

At  one  of  the  colleges  at  Calcutta  the  distribution  of  prizes 
was  accompanied  by  some  histrionic  performances  on  the  part 
of  the  pupils. 

"  I  have  no  partiality,"  writes  Macaulay, "  for  such  ceremonies.  I  think 
it  a  very  questionable  thing  whether,  even  at  home,  public  spouting  and 
acting  ought  to  form  part  of  the  system  of  a  place  of  education.  But  in 
this  country  such  exhibitions  are  peculiarly  out  of  place.  I  can  conceive 
nothing  more  grotesque  than  the  scene  from  the  '  Merchant  of  Venice,' 
with  Portia  represented  by  a  little  black  boy.  Then,  too,  the  subjects  of 
recitation  were  ill  chosen.  We  are  attempting  to  introduce  a  great  na- 
tion to  a  knowledge  of  the  richest  and  noblest  literature  in  the  world. 
The  society  of  Calcutta  assemble  to  see  what  progress  we  are  making ;  and 
we  produce  as  a  sample  a  boy  who  repeats  some  blackguard  doggerel  of 
George  Colman's,  about  a  fat  gentleman  who  was  put  to  bed  over  an  oven, 
and  about  a  man-midwife  who  was  called  out  of  his  bed  by  a  drunken  man 
at  night.  Our  disciple  tries  to  hiccough,  and  tumbles  and  staggers  about 
in  imitation  of  the  tipsy  English  sailors  whom  he  has  seen  at  the  punch- 
houses.  Really,  if  we  can  find  nothing  better  worth  reciting  than  this 
trash,  we  had  better  give  up  English  instruction  altogether." 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  361 

"As  to  the  list  of  prize  books,  I  am  not  much  better  satisfied.  It  is  ab- 
solutely unintelligible  to  me  why  Pope's  works,  and  my  old  friend  Moore's 
'  Lalla  Rookh,'  should  be  selected  from  the  whole  mass  of  English  poetry  to 
be  prize  books.  I  will  engage  to  frame,  currente  calamo,  a  better  list.  Ba- 
con's 'Essays,'  Hume's '  England,'  Gibbon's '  Rome,'  Robertson's  'Charles  V.,' 
Robertson's  '  Scotland,'  Robertson's  '  America,'  Swift's  '  Gulliver,'  '  Robin- 
sou  Crusoe,'  Shakspeare's  works, '  Paradise  Lost,'  Milton's  smaller  poems, 
'Arabian  Nights,'  Park's  'Travels,'  Anson's  'Voyage,'  the  '  Vicar  of  Wake- 
field,'  Johnson's  '  Lives,'  '  Gil  Bias,'  Voltaire's  '  Charles  XII.,'  Southey's 
'Nelson,'  Middleton's  '  Life  of  Cicero.' 

"This  may  serve  as  a  specimen.  These  are  books  which  will  amuse 
and  interest  those  who  obtain  them.  To  give  a  boy  '  Abercrombie  on  the 
Intellectual  Powers,'  Dick's  '  Moral  Improvement,'  Young's  '  lutellectual 
Philosophy,'  Chalmers's '  Poetical  Economy '! ! !  (in  passing,  I  may  be  allow- 
ed to  ask  what  that  means),  is  quite  absurd.  I  would  not  give  orders  at 
random  for  books  about  which  we  know  nothing.  We  are  under  no  neces- 
sity of  ordering  at  haphazard.  We  know  '  Robinson  Crusoe,'  and  '  Gul- 
liver,' and  the  '  Arabian  Nights,'  and  Anson's  '  Voyage,'  and  many  other 
delightful  works  which  interest  even  the  very  young,  and  which  do  not 
lose  their  interest  to  the  end  of  our  lives.  Why  should  we  order  blindfold 
such  books  as  Markham's  '  New  Children's  Friend,'  the  '  Juvenile  Scrap- 
book,'  the  '  Child's  Own  Book,'  Higgins's  'Earth,'  Mudie's  '  Sea,'  and  some- 
body else's  '  Fire  and  Air  ?' — books  which,  I  will  be  bound  for  it,  none  of 
us  ever  opened. 

"  The  list  ought  in  all  its  parts  to  be  thoroughly  recast.  If  Sir  Benja- 
min Malkin  will  furuish  the  names  of  ten  or  twelve  works  of  a  scientific 
kind  which  he  thinks  suited  for  prizes,  the  task  will  not  be  difficult ;  and, 
with  his  help,  I  will  gladly  undertake  it.  There  is  a  marked  distinction 
between  a  prize  book  and  a  school  book.  A  prize  book  ought  to  be  a  book 
which  a  boy  receives  with  pleasure,  and  turns  over  and  over,  not  as  a  task, 
but  spontaneously.  I  have  not  forgotten  my  own  school-boy  feelings  on 
this  subject.  My  pleasure  at  obtaining  a  prize  was  greatly  enhanced  by 
the  knowledge  that  my  little  library  would  receive  a  very  agreeable  addi- 
tion. I  never  was  better  pleased  than  when  at  fourteen  I  was  master  of 
Boswell's  '  Life  of  Johnson,'  which  I  had  long  been  wishing  to  read.  If  my 
master  had  given  me,  instead  of  Boswell,  a  critical  pronouncing  dictionary, 
or  a  geographical  class-book,  I  should  have  been  much  less  gratified  by  my 
success." 

The  idea  had  been  started  of  paying  authors  to  write  books 
in  the  languages  of  the  country.  On  this  Macaulay  remarks : 

"  To  hire  four  or  five  people  to  make  a  literature  is  a  course  which  nev- 
er answered  and  never  will  answer,  in  any  part  of  the  world.  Languages 
grow.  They  can  not  be  built.  We  are  now  following  the  slow  but  sure 


362  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  vi. 

course  on  which  alone  we  can  depend  for  a  supply  of  good  books  iu  tin- 
vernacular  languages  of  India.  We  are  attempting  to  raise  up  a  large  class 
of  enlightened  natives.  I  hope  that,  twenty  years  hence,  there  will  be  hun- 
dreds, nay  thousands,  of  natives  familiar  with  the  best  models  of  composi- 
tion, and  well  acquainted  with  Western  science.  Among  them  some  per- 
sons will  be  found  who  will  have  the  inclination,  and  the  ability,  to  exhibit 
European  knowledge  in  the  vernacular  dialects.  This  I  believe  to  be  the 
only  way  in  which  we  can  raise  up  a  good  vernacular  literature  in  this 
country." 

These  hopeful  anticipations  have  been  more  than  fulfilled. 
Twice  twenty  years  have  brought  into  existence,  not  hundreds 
or  thousands,  but  hundreds  of  thousands,  of  natives  who  can 
appreciate  European  knowledge  when  laid  before  them  in  the 
English  language,  and  can  reproduce  it  in  their  own.  Taking 
one  year  with  another,  upward  of  a  thousand  works  of  litera- 
ture and  science  are  published  annually  in  Bengal  alone,  and 
at  least  four  times  that  number  throughout  the  entire  conti- 
nent. Our  colleges  have  more  than  six  thousand  students  on 
their  books,  and  two  hundred  thousand  boys  are  receiving  a 
liberal  education  in  schools  of  the  higher  order.  For  the  im- 
provement of  the  mass  of  the  people,  nearly  seven  thousand 
young  men  are  in  training  as  certificated  masters.  The 
amount  allotted  in  the  budget  to  the  item  of  Public  Instruc- 
tion has  increased  more  than  seventy-fold  since  1835 ;  and  is 
largely  supplemented  by  the  fees  which  parents  of  all  classes 
willingly  contribute,  when  once  they  have  been  taught  the 
value  of  a  commodity  the  demand  for  which  is  created  by  the 
supply.  During  many  years  past  the  generosity  of  wealthy 
natives  has  to  a  great  extent  been  diverted  from  the  idle  ex- 
travagance of  pageants  and  festivals,  to  promote  the  intellect- 
ual advancement  of  their  fellow-countrymen.  On  several 
different  occasions,  at  a  single  stroke  of  the  pen,  our  Indian 
universities  have  been  endowed  with  twice,  three  times,  four 
times  the  amount  of  the  slender  sum  which  Macaulay  had  at 
his  command.  But  none  the  less  was  he  the  master-engineer, 
whose  skill  and  foresight  determined  the  direction  of  the  chan- 
nels along  which  this  stream  of  public  and  private  munificence 
was  to  flow  for  the  regeneration  of  our  Eastern  empire. 
.  It  may  add  something  to  the  merit  of  Macaulay's  labors  in 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  363 

the  cause  of  education  that  those  labors  were  voluntary  and 
unpaid ;  and  voluntary  and  unpaid  likewise  was  another  serv- 
ice which  he  rendered  to  India,  not  less  durable  than  the  first, 
and  hardly  less  important.  A  clause  in  the  act  of  1833  gave 
rise  to  the  appointment  of  a  commission  to  inquire  into  the 
jurisprudence  and  jurisdiction  of  our  Eastern  empire.  Mac- 
aulay,  at  his  own  instigation,  was  appointed  president  of  that 
commission.  He  had  not  been  many  months  engaged  in  his 
new  duties  before  he  submitted  a  proposal,  by  the  adoption  of 
which  his  own  industry,  and  the  high  talents  of  his  colleagues, 
Mr.  Cameron  and  Sir  John  Macleod,  might  be  turned  to  the 
best  account  by  being  employed  in  framing  a  criminal  code 
for  the  whole  Indian  empire.  "  This  code,"  writes  Macau- 
lay,  "  should  not  be  a  mere  digest  of  existing  usages  and  regu- 
lations, but  should  comprise  all  the  reforms  which  the  commis- 
sion may  think  desirable.  It  should  be  framed  on  two  great 
principles — the  principle  of  suppressing  crime  with  the  small- 
est possible  amount  of  suffering,  and  the  principle  of  ascer- 
taining truth  at  the  smallest  possible  cost  of  time  and  money. 
The  commissioners  should  be  particularly  charged  to  study 
conciseness,  as  far  as  it  is  consistent  with  perspicuity.  In  gen- 
eral, I  believe,  it  will  be  found  that  perspicuous  and  concise 
expressions  are  not  only  compatible,  but  identical." 

The  offer  was  eagerly  accepted,  and  the  commission  fell  to 
work.  The  results  of  that  work  did  not  show  themselves 
quickly  enough  to  satisfy  the  most  practical  and  (to  its  credit 
be  it  spoken)  the  most  exacting  of  governments;  and  Mac- 
aulay  was  under  the  necessity  of  explaining  and  excusing  a 
procrastination  which  was  celerity  itself  as  compared  with  any 
codifying  that  had  been  done  since  the  days  of  Justinian. 

"  Daring  the  last  rainy  season — a  season,  I  believe,  peculiarly  unhealthy 
— every  member  of  the  commission  except  myself  was  wholly  incapaci- 
tated for  exertion.  Mr.  Anderson  has  been  twice  under  the  necessity 
of  leaving  Calcutta,  and  has  not,  till  very  lately,  been  able  to  labor  with 
his  accustomed  activity.  Mr.  Macleod  has  been,  till  within  the  last  week 
or  ten  days,  in  so  feeble  a  state  that  the  smallest  effort  seriously  disor- 
dered him  ;  and  his  health  is  so  delicate  that,  admirably  qualified  as  he 
is  by  very  rare  talents  for  the  discharge  of  his  functions,  it  would  be  im- 


364  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.VI. 

prudent,  in  forming  any  prospective  calculation,  to  reckon  on  much  service 
from  him.  Mr.  Cameron,  of  the  importance  of  whose  assistance  I  need  not 
speak,  has  been  during  more  than  four  months  utterly  unable  to  do  any 
work,  and  has  at  length  been  compelled  to  ask  leave  of  absence,  in  order  to 
visit  the  Cape  for  the  recovery  of  his  health.  Thus,  as  the  governor-gen- 
eral has  stated,  Mr.  Millett  and  myself  have,  during  a  considerable  time, 
constituted  the  whole  effective  strength  of  the  commission.  Nor  has  Mr. 
Millett  been  able  to  devote  to  the  business  of  the  commission  his  whole 
undivided  attention. 

"  I  must  say  that,  even  if  no  allowance  be  made  for  the  untoward  occur- 
rences which  have  retarded  our  progress,  that  progress  can  not  be  called 
slow.  People  who  have  never  considered  the  importance  and  difficulty  of 
the  task  in  which  we  are  employed  are  surprised  to  find  that  a  code  can  not 
be  spoken  off  extempore,  or  written  like  an  article  in  a  magazine.  I  ana 
not  ashamed  to  acknowledge  that  there  are  several  chapters  in  the  code 
on  which  I  have  been  employed  for  months ;  of  which  I  have  changed  the 
whole  plan  ten  or  twelve  times ;  which  contain  not  a  single  word  as  it 
originally  stood ;  and  with  which  I  am  still  very  far  indeed  from  being  sat- 
isfied. I  certainly  shall  not  hurry  on  my  share  of  the  work  to  gratify  the 
childish  impatience  of  the  ignorant.  Their  censure  ought  to  be  a  matter 
of  perfect  indifference  to  men  engaged  in  a  task,  on  the  right  performing 
of  which  the  welfare  of  millions  may,  during  a  long  series  of  years,  de- 
pend. The  cost  of  the  commission  is  as  nothing  when  compared  with  the 
importance  of  such  a  work.  The  time  during  which  the  commission  has 
sat  is  as  nothing  compared  with  the  time  during  which  that  work  will 
produce  good,  or  evil,  to  India. 

"  Indeed,  if  we  compare  the  progress  of  the  '  Indian  Code'  with  the  prog- 
ress of  codes  under  circumstances  far  more  favorable,  we  shall  find  little 
reason  to  accuse  the  Law  Commission  of  tardiness.  Bonaparte  had  at  his 
command  the  services  of  experienced  jurists  to  any  extent  to  which  he 
chose  to  call  for  them  ;  yet  his  legislation  proceeded  at  a  far  slower  rate 
than  ours.  The  '  French  Criminal  Code '  was  begun,  under  the  Consulate, 
in  March,  1801 ;  and  yet  the  '  Code  of  Criminal  Procedure '  was  not  com- 
pleted till  1808,  and  the  '  Penal  Code '  not  till  1810.  The  <  Criminal  Code 
of  Louisiana'  was  commenced  in  February,  1821.  After  it  had  been  in 
preparation  during  three  years  and  a  half,  an  accident  happened  to  the  pa- 
pers which  compelled  Mr.  Livingstone  to  request  indulgence  for  another 
year.  Indeed,  when  I  remember  the  slow  progress  of  law  reforms  at  home, 
and  when  I  consider  that  our  code  decides  hundreds  of  questions,  every  one 
of  which,  if  stirred  in  England,  would  give  occasion  to  voluminous  contro- 
versy and  to  many  animated  debates,  I  must  acknowledge  that  I  am  inclined 
to  fear  that  we  have  been  guilty  rather  of  precipitation  than  of  delay." 

This  minute  was  dated  the  2d  of  January,  1837;   and  in 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  365 

the  course  of  the  same  year  the  code  appeared,  headed  by  an 
introductory  report  in  the  shape  of  a  letter  to  the  governor- 
general,  and  followed  by  an  appendix  containing  eighteen 
notes,  each  in  itself  an  essay.  The  most  readable  of  all  di- 
gests, its  pages  are  alive  with  illustrations  drawn  from  history, 
from  literature,  and  from  the  habits  and  occurrences  of  every- 
day life.  The  offense  of  fabricating  evidence  is  exemplified 
by  a  case  which  may  easily  be  recognized  as  that  of  Lady  Mac- 
oeth  and  the  grooms  ;*  and  the  offense  of  voluntary  culpable 
homicide,  by  an  imaginary  incident  of  a  pit  covered  with 
sticks  and  turf,  which  irresistibly  recalls  a  reminiscence  of 
"  Jack  the  Giant-killer."  The  chapters  on  theft  and  trespass 
establish  the  rights  of  book-owners  as  against  book-stealers, 
book-borrowers,  and  book-defacers,f  with  an  affectionate  pre- 
cision which  would  have  gladdened  the  heart  of  Charles  Lamb 
or  Sir  Walter  Scott.  In  the  chapter  on  manslaughter,  the 
judge  is  enjoined  to  treat  with  lenity  an  act  done  in  the  first 
anger  of  a  husband  or  father,  provoked  by  the  intolerable  out- 
rage of  a  certain  kind  of  criminal  assault.  "  Such  an  assault 
produced  the  Sicilian  Vespers.  Such  an  assault  called  forth 
the  memorable  blow  of  Wat  Tyler."  And,  on  the  question 
whether  the  severity  of  a  hurt  should  be  considered  in  appor- 
tioning the  punishment,  we  are  reminded  of  "  examples  which 

*  "A,  after  -wounding  a  person  with  a  knife,  goes  into  the  room  where  Z 
is  sleeping,  smears  Z's  clothes  with  blood,  and  lays  the  knife  under  Z's  pil- 
low ;  intending  not  only  that  suspicion  may  thereby  be  turned  away  from 
himself,  but  also  that  Z  may  be  convicted  of  voluntarily  causing  grievous 
hurt.  A  is  liable  to  punishment  as  a  fabricator  of  false  evidence." 

t  "  A,  being  on  friendly  terms  with  Z,  goes  into  Z's  library,  in  Z's  absence, 
and  takes  a  book  without  Z's  express  consent.  Here,  it  is  probable  that  A 
may  have  conceived  that  he  had  Z's  implied  consent  to  use  Z's  books.  If 
this  was  A's  impression,  A  has  not  committed  theft." 

"A  takes  up  a  book  belonging  to  Z,  and  reads  it,  not  having  any  right 
over  the  book,  and  not  having  the  consent  of  any  person  entitled  to  author- 
ize A  so  to  do.  A  trespasses." 

"A,  being  exasperated  at  a  passage  in  a  book  which  is  lying  on  the  count- 
er of  Z,  snatches  it  up  and  tears  it  to  pieces.  A  has  not  committed  theft, 
as  he  has  not  acted  fraudulently,  though  he  may  have  committed  criminal 
trespass  and  mischief." 


366  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  vi. 

are  universally  known.  Harley  was  laid  up  moie  than  twen- 
ty days  by  the  wound  which  he  received  from  Guiscard ;" 
while  "  the  scratch  which  Damien  gave  to  Louis  the  Fifteenth 
was  so  slight  that  it  was  followed  by  no  feverish  symptoms." 
Such  a  sanguine  estimate  of  the  diffusion  of  knowledge  with 
regard  to  the  details  of  ancient  crimes  could  proceed  from  no 
pen  but  that  of  the  writer  who  endowed  school-boys  with  the 
erudition  of  professors,  and  the  talker  who,  when  he  poured 
forth  the  stores  of  his  memory,  began  each  of  his  disquisitions 
with  the  phrase  "  Don't  you  remember  ?" 

If  it  be  asked  whether  or  not  the  "  Penal  Code  "  fulfills  the 
ends  for  which  it  was  framed,  the  answer  may  safely  be  left 
to  the  gratitude  of  Indian  civilians,  the  younger  of  whom  car- 
ry it  about  in  their  saddle-bags,  and  the  older  in  their  heads. 
The  value  which  it  possesses  in  the  eyes  of  a  trained  English 
lawyer  may  be  gathered  from  the  testimony  of  Macaulay's 
eminent  successor,  Mr.  Fitzjames  Stephen : 

"In  order  to  appreciate  the  importance  of  the  'Penal  Code,'  it  must  be 
borne  in  mind  what  crime  in  India  is.  Here,  in  England,  order  is  so  thor- 
oughly well  established  that  the  crime  of  the  country  is  hardly  more  than 
an  annoyance.  In  India,  if  crime  is  allowed  to  get  to  a  head,  it  is  capable 
of  destroying  the  peace  and  prosperity  of  whole  tracts  of  country.  The 
mass  of  the  people  in  their  common  moods  are  gentle,  submissive,  and  dis- 
posed to  be  innocent ;  but,  for  that  very  reason,  bold  and  successful  crim- 
inals are  dangerous  in  the  extreme.  In  old  days,  when  they  joined  in 
gangs  or  organized  bodies,  they  soon  acquired  political  importance.  Now, 
in  many  parts  of  India,  crime  is  quite  as  uncommon  as  in  the  least  crimi- 
nal parts  of  England ;  and  the  old  high-handed,  systematized  crime  has 
almost  entirely  disappeared.  This  great  revolution  (for  it  is  nothing  less) 
in  the  state  of  society  of  a  whole  continent  has  been  brought  about  by  the 
regular  administration  of  a  rational  body  of  criminal  law. 

"The  administration  of  criminal  justice  is  intrusted  to  a  very  small 
number  of  English  magistrates,  organized  according  to  a  carefully  devised 
system  of  appeal  and  supervision  which  represents  the  experience  of  a  cent- 
ury. This  system  is  not  unattended  by  evils ;  but  it  is  absolutely  neces- 
sary, to  enable  a  few  hundred  civilians  to  govern  a  continent.  Persons  in 
such  a  position  must  be  provided  with  the  plainest  instructions  as  to  the 
nature  of  their  duties.  These  instructions,  in  so  far  as  the  administration 
of  criminal  justice  is  concerned,  are  contained  in  the  '  Indian  Penal  Code' 
and  the  '  Code  of  Criminal  Procedure.'  The  '  Code  of  Crimiual  Procedure ' 


1834-'38.]  LOED  MACAULAY.  367 

contains  541  sections,  and  forms  a  pamphlet  of  210  widely  printed  octavo 
pages.  The  'Penal  Code'  consists  of  510  sections.  Pocket  editions  of 
these  codes  are  published,  which  may  be  carried  about  as  easily  as  a  pock- 
et Bible ;  and  I  doubt  whether,  even  in  Scotland,  you  would  find  many 
people  who  know  their  Bibles  as  Indian  civilians  know  their  codes." 

After  describing  the  confusion  and  complication  of  the 
criminal  law  of  our  Indian  empire  before  it  was  taken  in  hand 
by  the  Commission  of  1834,  Mr.  Stephen  proceeds  to  say : 

"  Lord  Macaulay's  great  work  was  far  too  daring  and  original  to  be  ac- 
cepted at  once.  It  was  a  draft  when  he  left  India  in  1838.  His  successors 
made  remarks  on  it  for  twenty-two  years.  Those  years  were  filled  with 
wars  and  rumors  of  wars.  The  Afghan  disasters  and  triumphs,  the  war 
in  Central  India,  the  wars  with  the  Sikhs,  Lord  Dalhousie's  annexations, 
threw  law  reform  into  the  background,  and  produced  a  state  of  mind  not 
very  favorable  to  it.  Then  came  the  Mutiny,  which  in  its  essence  was  the 
breakdown  of  an  old  system ;  the  renunciation  of  an  attempt  to  effect 
an  impossible  compromise  between  the  Asiatic  and  the  European  view  of 
things,  legal,  military,  and  administrative.  The  effect  of  the  Mutiny  on 
the  statute-book  was  unmistakable.  The  'Code  of  Civil  Procedure'  was 
enacted  in  1859.  The  'Penal  Code'  was  enacted  in  1860,  and  came  into 
operation  on  the  1st  of  January,  1862.  The  credit  of  passing  the  '  Penal 
Code '  into  law,  and  of  giving  to  every  part  of  it  the  improvements  which 
practical  skill  and  technical  knowledge  could  bestow,  is  due  to  Sir  Barnes 
Peacock,  who  held  Lord  Macaulay's  place  during  the  most  anxious  years 
through  which  the  Indian  empire  has  passed.  The  draft  and  the  revis- 
ion are  both  eminently  creditable  to  their  authors ;  and  the  result  of  their 
successive  efforts  has  been  to  reproduce  in  a  concise  and  even  beautiful 
form  the  spirit  of  the  law  of  England ;  the  most  technical,  the  most  clumsy, 
and  the  most  bewildering  of  all  systems  of  criminal  law,  though  I  think,  if 
its  principles  are  fully  understood,  it  is  the  most  rational.  If  any  one 
doubts  this  assertion, let  him  compare  the  'Indian  Penal  Code'  with  such 
a  book  as  Mr.  Greaves's  edition  of '  Russell  on  Crimes.'  The  one  subject  of 
homicide,  as  treated  by  Mr.  Greaves  and  Russell,  is,  I  should  think,  twice 
as  long  as  the  whole  '  Penal  Code ;'  and  it  does  not  contain  a  tenth  part  of 
the  matter." 

"  The  point  which  always  has  surprised  me  most  in  connection  with  the 
'  Penal  Code '  is,  that  it  proves  that  Lord  Macaulay  must  have  had  a  knowl- 
edge of  English  criminal  law  which,  considering  how  little  he  had  prac- 
ticed it,*  may  fairly  be  called  extraordinary.  He  must  have  possessed  the 

*  Macaulay's  practice  at  the  bar  had  been  less  than  little,  according  to 


368  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  vi. 

gift  of  going  at  once  to  the  very  root  of  the  matter,  and  of  sifting  the  corn 
from  the  chaff  to  a  most  unusual  degree ;  for  his  draft  gives  the  substance 
of  the  criminal  law  of  England,  down  to  its  minute  working  details,  in  a 
compass  which  by  comparison  with  the  original  may  be  regarded  as  almost 
absurdly  small.  The  '  Indian  Penal  Code '  is  to  the  English  criminal  law 
what  a  manufactured  article  ready  for  use  is  to  the  materials  out  of  which 
it  is  made.  It  is  to  the  French  '  Code  Pe~ual,'  and,  I  may  add,  to  the '  North 
German  Code'  of  1871,  what  a  finished  picture  is  to  a  sketch.  It  is  far 
simpler,  and  much  better  expressed,  than  Livingston's  '  Code  for  Louisi- 
ana ;'  and  its  practical  success  has  been  complete.  The  clearest  proof  of 
this  is  that  hardly  any  questions  have  arisen  upon  it  which  have  had  to  be 
determined  by  the  courts ;  and  that  few  and  slight  amendments  have  had 
to  be  made  in  it  by  the  Legislature." 

Without  troubling  himself  unduly  about  the  matter,  Mac- 
aulay  was  conscious  that  the  world's  estimate  of  his  public 
services  would  be  injuriously  affected  by  the  popular  notion, 
which  he  has  described  as  "  so  flattering  to  mediocrity,"  that  a 
great  writer  can  not  be  a  great  administrator;  and  it  is  pos- 
sible that  this  consciousness  had  something  to  do  with  the 
heartiness  and  fervor  which  he  threw  into  his  defense  of  the 
author  of  "  Cato  "  against  the  charge  of  having  been  an  ineffi- 
cient secretary  of  state.  There  was  much  in  common  between 
his  own  lot  and  that  of  the  other  famous  essayist  who  had  been 
likewise  a  Whig  statesman ;  and  this  similarity  in  their  fort- 
unes may  account  in  part  for  the  indulgence,  and  almost  ten- 
derness, with  which  he  reviewed  the  career  and  character  of 
Addison.  Addison  himself,  at  his  villa  in  Chelsea,  and  still 
more  amidst  the  gilded  slavery  of  Holland  House,  might  have 
envied  the  literary  seclusion,  ample  for  so  rapid  a  reader,  which 
the  usages  of  Indian  life  permitted  Macaulay  to  enjoy.  "  I 
have  a  very  pretty  garden,"  he  writes, "  not  unlike  our  little 
grass-plot  at  Clapham,  but  larger.  It  consists  of  a  fine  sheet 
of  turf,  with  a  gravel  walk  round  it,  and  flower-beds  scattered 
over  it.  It  looks  beautiful  just  now  after  the  rains,  and  I 

an  account  which  he  gave  of  it  at  a  public  dinner:  "  My  own  forensic  expe- 
rience, gentlemen,  has  been  extremely  small ;  for  my  only  recollection  of  an 
achievement  that  way  is  that  at  quarter  sessions  I  once  convicted  a  boy  of 
stealing  a  parcel  of  cocks  and  hens." 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  369 

hear  that  jt  keeps  its  verdure  during  a  great  part  of  the  year. 
A  flight  of  steps  leads  down  from  my  library  into  the  gar- 
den, and  it  is  so  well  shaded  that  you  may  walk  there  till  ten 
o'clock  in  the  morning." 

Here,  book  in  hand,  and  in  dressing-gown  and  slippers,  he 
would  spend  those  two  hours  after  sunrise  which  Anglo-In- 
dian gentlemen  devote  to  riding,  and  Anglo-Indian  ladies  to 
sleeping  off  the  arrears  of  the  sultry  night.  Regularly,  every 
morning,  his  studies  were  broken  in  upon  by  the  arrival  of 
his  baby  niece,  who  came  to  feed  the  crows  with  the  toast 
which  accompanied  his  early  cup  of  tea ;  a  ceremony  during 
which  he  had  much  ado  to  protect  the  child  from  the  ad- 
vances of  a  multitude  of  birds,  each  almost  as  big  as  her- 
self, which  hopped  and  fluttered  round  her  as  she  stood  on 
the  steps  of  the  veranda.  When  the  sun  drove  him  indoors 
(which  happened  sooner  than  he  had  promised  himself,  before 
he  had  learned  by  experience  what  the  hot  season  was),  he 
went  to  his  bath  and  toilet,  and  then  to  breakfast ;  "  at  which 
we  support  nature  under  the  exhausting  effects  of  the  climate 
by  means  of  plenty  of  eggs,  mango-fish,  snipe-pies,  and  fre- 
quently a  hot  beefsteak.  My  cook  is  renowned  through  Cal- 
cutta for  his  skill.  He  brought  me  attestations  of  a  long 
succession  of  gourmands,  and  among  them  one  from  Lord 
Dalhousie,*  who  pronounced  him  decidedly  the  first  artist  in 
Bengal.  This  great  man,  and  his  two  assistants,  I  am  to  have 
for  thirty  rupees  a  month.  "While  I  am  on  the  subject  of  the 
cuisine,  I  may  as  well  say  all  that  I  have  to  say  about  it  at 
once.  The  tropical  fruits  are  wretched.  The  best  of  them 
is  inferior  to  our  apricot  or  gooseberiy.  When  I  was  a  child, 
I  had  a  notion  of  its  being  the  most  exquisite  of  treats  to  eat 
plantains  and  yams,  and  to  drink  palm-wine.  How  I  envied 
my  father  for  having  enjoyed  these  luxuries!  I  have  now 
enjoyed  them  all,  and  I  have  found,  like  much  greater  men  on 
much  more  important  occasions,  that  all  is  vanity.  A  plant- 
ain is  very  like  a  rotten  pear — so  like,  that  I  would  lay  twen- 

*  Lord  Dalhousie,  the  father  of  the  governor-general,  was  commauder- 
iu-chief  in  ludia  during  the  years  1830  and  1831. 
VOL.  I.— 24 


370  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  vi. 

ty  to  one  that  a  person  blindfolded  would  not  discover  the 
difference.  A  yam  is  better.  It  is  like  an  indifferent  potato. 
I  tried  palm  -  wine  at  a  pretty  village  near  Madras,  where  I 
slept  one  night.  I  told  Captain  Barron  that  I  had  been  curi- 
ous to  taste  that  liquor  ever  since  I  first  saw,  eight  or  nine 
and  twenty  years  ago,  the  picture  of  the  negro  climbing  the 
tree  in  Sierra  Leone.  The  next  morning  I  was  roused  by  a 
servant,  with  a  large  bowl  of  juice  fresh  from  the  tree.  I 
drank  it,  and  found  it  very  like  ginger-beer  in  which  the  gin- 
ger has  been  sparingly  used." 

Macaulay  necessarily  spent  away  from  home  the  days  on 
which  the  Supreme  Council,  or  the  Law  Commission,  held 
their  meetings ;  but  the  rest  of  his  work,  legal,  literary,  and 
educational,  he  carried  on  in  the  quiet  of  his  library.  Now 
and  again,  a  morning  was  consumed  in  returning  calls ;  an  ex- 
penditure of  time  which  it  is  needless  to  say  that  he  sorely 
grudged.  "  Happily  the  good  people  here  are  too  busy  to  be 
at  home.  Except  the  parsons,  they  are  all  usefully  occupied 
somewhere  or  other,  so  that  I  have  only  to  leave  cards ;  but 
the  reverend  gentlemen  are  always  within  doors  in  the  heat  of 
the  day,  lying  on  their  backs,  regretting  breakfast,  longing  for 
tiffin,  and  crying  out  for  lemonade."  After  lunch  he  sat  with 
Mrs.  Trevelyan,  translating  Greek  or  reading  French  for  her 
benefit ;  and  Scribe's  comedies  and  Saint  Simon's  "  Memoirs  " 
beguiled  the  long,  languid  leisure  of  the  Calcutta  afternoon, 
while  the  punka  swung  overhead,  and  the  air  came  heavy 
and  scented  through  the  moistened  grass  matting  which 
shrouded  the  windows.  At  the  approach  of  sunset,  with  its 
attendant  breeze,  he  joined  his  sister  in  her  drive  along  the 
banks  of  the  Hooghly ;  and  they  returned  by  starlight,  too 
often  to  take  part  in  a  vast  banquet  of  forty  guests,  dressed  as 
fashionably  as  people  can  dress  at  ninety  degrees  east  from 
Paris ;  who,  one  and  all,  had  far  rather  have  been  eating  their 
curry  and  drinking  their  bitter  beer  at  home,  in  all  the  com- 
fort of  muslin  and  nankeen.  Macaulay  is  vehement  in  his 
dislike  of  "  those  great  formal  dinners,  which  unite  all  the 
stiffness  of  a  levee  to  all  the  disorder  and  discomfort  of  a  two- 
shilling  ordinary.  Nothing  can  be  duller.  Nobody  speaks 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY. 

except  to  the  person  next  him.  The  conversation  is  the  most 
deplorable  twaddle ;  and,  as  I  always  sit  next  to  the  lady  of 
the  highest  rank,  or,  in  other  words,  to  the  oldest,  ugliest,  and 
proudest  woman  in  the  company,  I  am  worse  off  than  my 
neighbors." 

Nevertheless  he  was  far  too  acute  a  judge  of  men  to  under- 
value the  special  type  of  mind  which  is  produced  and  fostered 
by  the  influences  of  an  Indian  career.  He  was  always  ready 
to  admit  that  there  is  no  better  company  in  the  world  than  a 
young  and  rising  civilian ;  no  one  who  has  more  to  say  that 
is  worth  hearing,  and  who  can  say  it  in  a  manner  better  adapt- 
ed to  interest  those  who  know  good  talk  from  bad.  He  de- 
lighted in  that  freedom  from  pedantry,  affectation,  and  pre- 
tension which  is  one  of  the  most  agreeable  characteristics  of  a 
service  to  belong  to  which  is  in  itself  so  effectual  an  education, 
that  a  bore  is  a  phenomenon  notorious  everywhere  within  a 
hundred  miles  of  the  station  which  has  the  honor  to  possess 
him,  and  a  fool  is  quoted  by  name  throughout  all  the  three 
presidencies.  Macaulay  writes  to  his  sisters  at  home :  "  The 
best  way  of  seeing  society  here  is  to  have  very  small  parties. 
There  is  a  little  circle  of  people  whose  friendship  I  value,  and 
in  whose  conversation  I  take  pleasure :  the  chief-justice,  Sir 
Edward  Ryan ;  my  old  friend,  Halkin  ;*  Cameron  and  Mac- 
leod,  the  law  commissioners ;  Macnaghten,  among  the  older 
servants  of  the  company,  and  Mangles,  Colvin,  and  John 
Peter  Grant,  among  the  younger.  These,  in  my  opinion,  are 
the  flower  of  Calcutta  society,  and  I  often  ask  some  of  them 
to  a  quiet  dinner."  On  the  Friday  of  every  week  these 
chosen  few  met  round  Macaulay's  breakfast-table  to  discuss 

*  It  can  not  be  said  that  all  the  claims  made  upon  Macaulay's  friend- 
ship were  acknowledged  as  readily  as  those  of  Sir  Benjamin  Malkin.  "  I 
am  dunned  unmercifully  by  place-hunters.  The  oddest  application  that  I 

have  received  is  from  that  rascal ,  who  is  somewhere  in  the  interior. 

He  tells  me  that  he  is  sure  that  prosperity  has  not  changed  me;  that  I  am 
still  the  same  John  Macaulay  who  was  his  dearest  friend,  his  more  than 
brother ;  and  that  he  means  to  come  up  and  live  with  me  at  Calcutta.  If 
he  fulfills  his  intention,  I  will  have  him  taken  before  the  police-magis- 
trates." 


372  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  VL 

the  progress  which  the  Law  Commission  had  made  in  its  la- 
bors ;  and  each  successive  point  which  was  started  opened  the 
way  to  such  a  flood  of  talk,  legal,  historical,  political,  and  per- 
sonal, that  the  company  would  sit  far  on  toward  noon  over 
the  empty  tea-cups,  until  an  uneasy  sense  of  accumulating  dis- 
patch-boxes drove  them,  one  by  one,  to  their  respective  offices. 
There  are  scattered  passages  in  these  letters  which  prove 
that  Macaulay's  feelings  during  his  protracted  absence  from 
his  native  country  were  at  times  almost  as  keen  as  those 
which  racked  the  breast  of  Cicero  when  he  was  forced  to  ex- 
change the  triumphs  of  the  foruin,  and  the  cozy  suppers  with 
his  brother  augurs,  for  his  hateful  place  of  banishment  at 
Thessalonica,  or  his  hardly  less  hateful  seat  of  government  at 
Tarsus.  The  complaints  of  the  English  statesman  do  not, 
however,  amount  in  volume  to  a  fiftieth  part  of  those  reit- 
erated outpourings  of  lachrymose  eloquence  with  which  the 
Roman  philosopher  bewailed  an  expatriation  that  was  hardly 
one-third  as  long.  "  I  have  no  words,"  writes  Macaulay,  very 
much  underestimating  the  wealth  of  his  own  vocabulary,  "  to 
tell  you  how  I  pine  for  England,  or  how  intensely  bitter  exile 
has  been  to  me,  though  I  hope  that  I  have  borne  it  well.  I 
feel  as  if  I  had  no  other  wish  than  to  see  my  country  again, 
and  die.  Let  me  assure  you  that  banishment  is  no  light  mat- 
ter. No  person  can  judge  of  it  who  has  not  experienced  it. 
A  complete  revolution  in  all  the  habits  of  life ;  an  estrange- 
ment from  almost  every  old  friend  and  acquaintance ;  fifteen 
thousand  miles  of  ocean  between  the  exile  and  every  thing 
that  he  cares  for;  all  this  is,  to  me  at  least,  very  trying. 
There  is  no  temptation  of  wealth  or  power  which  would  in- 
duce me  to  go  through  it  again.  But  many  people  do  not 
feel  as  I  do.  Indeed,  the  servants  of  the  company  rarely  have 
such  a  feeling ;  and  it  is  natural  that  they  should  not  have 
it,  for  they  are  sent  out  while  still  school-boys,  and  when  they 
know  little  of  the  world.  The  moment  of  emigration  is  to 
them  also  the  moment  of  emancipation ;  and  the  pleasures  of 
liberty  and  affluence  to  a  great  degree  compensate  them  for  the 
loss  of  their  home.  In  a  few  years  they  become  Orientalized 
and,  by  the  time  that  they  are  of  my  age,  they  would  gen- 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  373 

erally  prefer  India,  as  a  residence,  to  England.  But  it  is  a  very 
different  matter  when  a  man  is  transplanted  at  thirty-three." 

Making,  as  always,  the  best  of  every  thing,  he  was  quite 
ready  to  allow  that  he  might  have  been  placed  in  a  still  less 
agreeable  situation.  In  the  following  extract  from  a  letter  to 
his  friend,  Mrs.  Drummond,  there  is  much  which  will  come 
home  to  those  who  are  old  enough  to  remember  how  vastly 
the  Dublin  of  1837  differed,  for  the  worse,  from  the  Dublin 
of  1875 :  "  It  now  seems  likely  that  you  may  remain  in  Ire- 
land for  years.  I  can  not  conceive  what  has  induced  you  to 
submit  to  such  an  exile.  I  declare,  for  my  own  part,  that, 
little  as  I  love  Calcutta,  I  would  rather  stay  here  than  be  set- 
tled in  the  Phoenix  Park.  The  last  residence  which  I  would 
choose  would  be  a  place  with  all  the  plagues,  and  none  of  the 
attractions,  of  a  capital ;  a  provincial  city  on  fire  with  factions 
political  and  religious,  peopled  by  raving  Orangemen  and  rav- 
ing Repealers,  and  distracted  by  a  contest  between  Protestant- 
ism as  fanatical  as  that  of  Knox,  and  Catholicism  as  fanatical 
as  that  of  Bonner.  We  have  our  share  of.  the  miseries  of  life 
in  this  country.  We  are  annually  baked  four  months,  boiled 
four  more,  and  allowed  the  remaining  four  to  become  cool  if 
we  can.  At  this  moment  the  sun  is  blazing  like  a  furnace. 
The  earth,  soaked  with  oceans  of  rain,  is  steaming  like  a  wet 
blanket.  Vegetation  is  rotting  all  round  us.  Insects  and  un- 
dertakers are  the  only  living  creatures  which  seem  to  enjoy 
the  climate.  But,  though  our  atmosphere  is  hot,  our  factions 
are  lukewarm.  A  bad  epigram  in  a  newspaper,  or  a  public 
meeting  attended  by  a  tailor,  a  pastry-cook,  a  reporter,  two  or 
three  barristers,  and  eight  or  ten  attorneys,  are  our  most  for- 
midable annoyances.  We  have  agitators  in  our  own  small 
way,  Tritons  of  the  minnows,  bearing  the  same  sort  of  resem- 
blance to  O'Connell  that  a  lizard  bears  to  an  alligator.  There- 
fore Calcutta  for  me,  in  preference  to  Dublin." 

He  had  good  reason  for  being  grateful  to  Calcutta,  and  still 
better  for  not  showing  his  gratitude  by  prolonging  his  stay 
there  over  a  fourth  summer  and  autumn.  "  That  tremendous 
crash  of  the  great  commercial  houses  which  took  place  a  few 
years  ago  has  produced  a  revolution  in  fashions.  It  ruined 


374  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.VI. 

one  half  of  the  English  society  in  Bengal,  and  seriously  in- 
jured the  other  half.  A  large  proportion  of  the  most  im- 
portant functionaries  here  are  deeply  in  debt,  and,  according- 
ly, the  mode  of  living  is  now  exceedingly  quiet  and  modest. 
Those  immense  subscriptions,  those,  public  tables,  those  costly 
equipages  and  entertainments  of  which  Heber,  and  others  who 
saw  Calcutta  a  few  years  back,  say  so  much,  are  never  heard 
of.  Speaking  for  myself,  it  was  a  great  piece  of  good  fortune 
that  I  came  hither  just  at  the  time  when  the  general  distress 
had  forced  every  body  to  adopt  a  moderate  way  of  living. 
Owing  very  much  to  that  circumstance  (while  keeping  house, 
I  think,  more  handsomely  than  any  other  member  of  council), 
I  have  saved  what  will  enable  me  to  do  my  part  toward  mak- 
ing my  family  comfortable ;  and  I  shall  have  a  competency 
for  myself,  small  indeed,  but  quite  sufficient  to  render  me  as 
perfectly  independent  as  if  I  were  the  possessor  of  Burleigh 
or  Chatsworth."* 

"  The  rainy  season  of  1837  has  been  exceedingly  unhealthy. 
Our  house  has  escaped  as  well  as  any ;  yet  Hannah  is  the 
only  one  of  us  who  has  come  off  untouched.  The  baby  has 
been  repeatedly  unwell.  Trevelyan  has  suffered  a  good  deal, 
and  is  kept  right  only  by  occasional  trips  in  a  steamer  down 
to  the  mouth  of  the  Hooghly.  I  had  a  smart  touch  of  fever, 
which  happily  staid  but  an  hour  or  two,  and  I  took  such  vig- 
orous measures  that  it  never  came  again ;  but  I  remained  un- 
nerved and  exhausted  for  nearly  a  fortnight.  This  was  my 
first,  and  I  hope  my  last,  taste  of  Indian  maladies.  It  is  a 
happy  thing  for  us  all  that  we  are  not  to  pass  another  year  in 
the  reek  of  this  deadly  marsh."  Macaulay  wisely  declined  to 
set  the  hope  of  making  another  lac  of  rupees  against  the  risk, 
to  himself  and  others,  of  such  a  fate  as  subsequently  befell 

*  Macaulay  writes  to  Lord  Mahon  on  the  last  day  of  December,  1836: 
"  In  another  year  I  hope  to  leave  this  country,  with  a  fortune  which  you 
would  think  ridiculously  small,  but  which  will  make  me  as  independent 
as  if  I  had  all  that  Lord  Westminster  has  above  the  ground,  and  Lord  Dur- 
ham below  it.  I  have  no  intention  of  again  taking  part  in  politics;  but 
I  can  not  tell  what  effect  the  sight  of  the  old  Hall  and  Abbey  may  produce 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  375 

Lord  Canning  and  Mr.  James  Wilson.  He  put  the  finishing 
stroke  to  his  various  labors ;  resigned  his  seat  in  the  council, 
and  his  presidentships  of  the  Law  Commission  and  the  Com- 
mittee of  Public  Instruction ;  and,  in  company  with  the  Trev- 
elyans,  sailed  for  England  in  the  first  fortnight  of  the  year 
1838. 

To  Mr.  Thomas  Flower  Ellis. 

Calcutta,  December  15th,  1834. 

DEAR  ELLIS, — Many  thanks  for  your  letter.  It  is  delight- 
ful in  this  strange  land  to  see  the  handwriting  of  such  a  friend. 
We  must  keep  up  our  spirits.  We  shall  meet,  I  trust,  in  lit- 
tle more  than  four  years,  with  feelings  of  regard  only  strength- 
ened by  our  separation.  My  spirits  are  not  bad ;  and  they 
ought  not  to  be  bad.  I  have  health,  affluence,  consideration, 
great  power  to  do  good  ;  functions  which,  while  they  are  hon- 
orable and  useful,  are  not  painfully  burdensome ;  leisure  for 
study,  good  books,  an  unclouded  and  active  mind,  warm  affec- 
tions, and  a  very  dear  sister.  There  will  soon  be  a  change  in 
my  domestic  arrangements.  My  sister  is  to  be  married  next 
week.  Her  lover,  who  is  lover  enough  to  be  a  knight  of  the 
Round  Table,  is  one  of  the  most  distinguished  of  our  young 
civilians.  I  have  the  very  highest  opinion  of  his  talents  both 
for  action  and  for  discussion.  Indeed,  I  should  call  him  a 
man  of  real  genius.  He  is  also,  what  is  even  more  important, 
a  man  of  the  utmost  purity  of  honor,  of  a  sweet  temper,  and 
of  strong  principle.  His  public  virtue  has  gone  through  very 
severe  trials,  and  has  come  out  resplendent.  Lord  William, 
in  congratulating  me  the  other  day,  said  that  he  thought  my 
destined  brother-in-law  the  ablest  young  man  in  the  service. 
His  name  is  Trevelyan.  He  is  a  nephew  of  Sir  John  Trev- 
elyan,  a  baronet — in  Cornwall,  I  suppose,  by  the  name ;  for  I 
never  took  the  trouble  to  ask. 

He  and  my  sister  will  live  with  me  during  my  stay  here. 
I  have  a  house  about  as  large  as  Lord  Dudley's  in  Park  Lane, 
or  rather  larger,  so  that  I  shall  accommodate  them  without 
the  smallest  difficulty.  This  arrangement  is  acceptable  to  me, 
because  it  saves  me  from  the  misery  of  parting  with  my  sister 
in  this  strange  land ;  and  is,  I  believe,  equally  gratifying  to 


376  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  vi. 

Trevelyan,  whose  education,  like  that  of  other  Indian  serv- 
ants, was  huddled  up  hastily  at  home ;  who  has  an  insatiable 
thirst  for  knowledge  of  every  sort ;  and  who  looks  on  me  as 
little  less  than  an  oracle  of  wisdom.  He  came  to  me  the  oth- 
er morning  to  know  whether  I  would  advise  him  to  keep  up 
his  Greek,  which  he  feared  he  had  nearly  lost.  I  gave  him 
Homer,  and  asked  him  to  read  a  page  ;  and  I  found  that,  like 
most  boys  of  any  talent  who  had  been  at  the  Charter-house, 
he  was  very  well  grounded  in  that  language.  He  read  with 
perfect  rapture,  and  has  marched  off  with  the  book,  declaring 
that  he  shall  never  be  content  till  he  has  finished  the  whole. 
This,  you  will  think,  is  not  a  bad  brother-in-law  for  a  man  to 
pick  up  in  22  degrees  of  north  latitude,  and  100  degrees  of 
east  longitude. 

I  read  much,  and  particularly  Greek ;  and  I  find  that  I  am, 
in  all  essentials,  still  not  a  bad  scholar,.  I  could,  I  think,  with 
a  year's  hard  study,  qualify  myself  to  fight  a  good  battle  for  a 
Craven's  scholarship.  I  read,  however,  not  as  I  read  at  col- 
lege, but  like  a  man  of  the  world.  If  I  do  not  know  a  word, 
I  pass  it  by  unless  it  is  important  to  the  sense.  If  I  find,  as  I 
have  of  late  often  found,  a  passage  which  refuses  to  give  up 
its  meaning  at  the  second  reading,  I  let  it  alone.  I  have  read 
during  the  last  fortnight,  before  breakfast,  three  books  of  He- 
rodotus, and  four  plays  of  ^Eschylus.  My  admiration  of  .zEs- 
chylus  has  been  prodigiously  increased  by  this  reperusal.  I 
can  not  conceive  how  any  person  of  the  smallest  pretension 
to  taste  should  doubt  about  his  immeasurable  superiority  to 
every  poet  of  antiquity,  Homer  only  excepted.  Even  Milton, 
I  think,  must  yield  to  him.  It  is  quite  unintelligible  to  me 
that  the  ancient  critics  should  have  placed  him  so  low.  Hor- 
ace's notice  of  him  in  the  "Ars  Poetica"  is  quite  ridiculous. 
There  is,  to  be  sure,  the  "  magnum  loqui ;"  but  the  great  topic 
insisted  on  is  the  skill  of  ^Eschylus  as  a  manager,  as  a  prop- 
erty-man ;  the  judicious  way  in  which  he  boarded  the  stage ; 
the  masks,  the  buskins,  and  the  dresses.*  And,  after  all,  the 

*  Post  hnuc  persona?  pallaeqtie  repertor  honestae 
JEschyltis  et  modicis  instravit  pulpita  tiguis, 
Et  docoit  magnumque  loqui,  nitique  cothurno. 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  377 

"magnum  loqui,"  though  the  most  obvious  characteristic  of 
^Eschylus,  is  by  no  means  his  highest  or  his  best.  Nor  can  I 
explain  this  by  saying  that  Horace  had  too  tame  and  unim- 
aginative a  mind  to  appreciate  ^Eschylus.  Horace  knew  what 
he  could  himself  do,  and,  with  admirable  wisdom,  he  confined 
himself  to  that ;  but  he  seems  to  have  had  a  perfectly  clear 
comprehension  of  the  merit  of  those  great  masters  whom 
he  never  attempted  to  rival.  He  praised  Pindar  most  en- 
thusiastically. It  seems  incomprehensible  to  me  that  a 
critic  who  admired  Pindar  should  not  admire  ^Eschylus  far 
more. 

Greek  reminds  me  of  Cambridge  and  of  Thirlwall,  and 
of  Wordsworth's  unutterable  baseness  and  dirtiness.*  When, 
you  see  Thirlwall,  tell  him  that  I  congratulate  him  from  the 
bottom  of  my  soul  on  having  suffered  in  so  good  a  cause ;  and 
that  I  would  rather  have  been  treated  as  he  has  been  treat- 
ed, on  such  an  account,  than  have  the  mastership  of  Trinity. 
There  would  be  some  chance  for  the  Church,  if  we  had  more 
Churchmen  of  the  same  breed,  worthy  successors  of  Leighton 
and  Tillotson. 

From  one  Trinity  fellow  I  pass  to  another.  (This  letter  is 
quite  a  study  to  a  metaphysician  who  wishes  to  illustrate  the 
law  of  association.)  We  have  no  official  tidings  yet  of  Mai- 
kin's  appointment  to  the  vacant  seat  on  the  bench  at  Calcutta. 
I  can  not  tell  you  how  delighted  I  am  at  the  prospect  of  hav- 
ing him  here.  An  honest,  enlightened  judge,  without  profes- 
sional narrowness,  is  the  very  man  whom  we  want,  on  public 
grounds.  And  as  to  my  private  feelings,  nothing  could  be 
more  agreeable  to  me  than  to  have  an  old  friend,  and  so  es- 

*  The  subjoined  extract  from  the  letter  of  a  leading  member  of  Trini- 
ty College  explains  Macaulay's  not  unrighteous  indignation :  "  Thirlwall 
published  a  pamphlet  in  1834,  on  the  admission  of  Dissenters  to  the  uni- 
versity. The  result  was  that  he  was  either  deprived  of  his  assistant  tu- 
torship by  the  master,  Wordsworth,  or  had  to  give  it  up.  Whewell,  also, 
was  supposed  to  have  behaved  badly  in  not  standing  up  for  him.  Thirl- 
wall left  Cambridge  soon  afterward.  I  suppose  that  if  he  had  remained 
he  would  have  been  very  possibly  Wordsworth's  successor  in  the  master- 
ship." 


378  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  vi. 

timable'a  friend,  brought  so  near  to  me  in  this  distant  coun- 
try.    Ever,  dear  Ellis,  yours  very  affectionately, 

T.  B.  MACATJLAY. 

Calcutta,  February  8th,  1835. 

PEAK  ELLIS,  —  The  last  month  has  been  the  most  painful 
that  I  ever  went  through.  Indeed,  I  never  knew  before  what 
it  was  to  be  miserable.  Early  in  January,  letters  from  En- 
gland brought  me  news  of  the  death  of  my  youngest  sister. 
What  she  was  to  me  no  words  can  express.  I  will  not  say 
that  she  was  dearer  to  me  than  any  thing  in  the  world,  for 
my  sister  who  was  with  me  was  equally  dear  ;  but  she  was  as 
dear  to  me  as  one  human  being  can  be  to  another.  Even 
now,  when  time  has  begun  to  do  its  healing  office,  I  can  not 
write  about  her  without  being  altogether  unmanned.  That  I 
have  not  utterly  sunk  under  this  blow  I  owe  chiefly  to  litera- 
ture. What  a  blessing  it  is  to  love  books  as  I  love  them  —  to 
be  able  to  converse  with  the  dead,  and  to  live  amidst  the  un- 
real !  Many  times  during  the  last  few  weeks  I  have  repeated 
to  myself  those  fine  lines  of  old  Hesiod  : 

et  yap  rig  KCU  irkvQoQ  t\wv  veoKrjdti  Qvpia 
aZtjTctt  KpaSiijv  ajeapj^tvoe,  avrdp  doiSos 
fjLovffd(jJv  GepaTTuv  icXEta  irportpw  di 
vpvrjffy,  fiuKapde  T£  &oi>e  01  "OXvfjnrov 
aty'  oye  du<r<j>povtaiv  iiri\r)9erai,  ovSi  rt 

i  '  ra\iu>c  St  iraperpaire  Swpa  Qedutv.* 


I  have  gone  back  to  Greek  literature  with  a  passion  quite 
astonishing  to  myself.  I  have  never  felt  any  thing  like  it. 
I  was  enraptured  with  Italian  during  the  six  months  which 
I  gave  up  to  it  ;  and  I  was  little  less  pleased  with  Spanish. 
But  when  I  went  back  to  the  Greek,  I  felt  as  if  I  had  nev- 

*  "For  if  to  one  whose  grief  is  fresh,  as  he  sits  silent  with  sorrow- 
stricken  heart,  a  minstrel,  the  henchman  of  the  Muses,  celebrates  the  men 
of  old  and  the  gods  who  possess  Olympus,  straightway  he  forgets  his  mel- 
ancholy, and  remembers  not  at  all  his  grief,  beguiled  by  the  blessed  gift  of 
the  goddesses  of  song."  In  Macaulay's  Hesiod  this  passage  is  scored  with 
three  lines  in  pencil. 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  379 

er  known  before  what  intellectual  enjoyment  was.  Oh  that 
wonderful  people!  There  is  not  one  art,  not  one  science, 
about  which  we  may  not  use  the  same  expression  which  Lu- 
cretius has  employed  about  the  victory  over  superstition, "  Pri- 
mum  Graius  homo — " 

I  think  myself  very  fortunate  in  having  been  able  to  return 
to  these  great  masters  while  still  in  the  full  vigor  of  life,  and 
when  my  taste  and  judgment  are  mature.  Most  people  read 
all  the  Greek  that  they  ever  read  before  they  are  five-and- 
twenty.  They  never  find  time  for  such  studies  afterward  till 
they  are  in  the  decline  of  life ;  and  then  their  knowledge  of 
the  language  is  in  a  great  measure  lost,  and  can  not  easily  be 
recovered.  Accordingly,  almost  all  the  ideas  that  people  have 
of  Greek  literature  are  ideas  formed  while  they  were  still  very 
young.  A  young  man,  whatever  his  genius  may  be,  is  no 
judge  of  such  a  writer  as  Thucydides.  I  had  no  high  opinion 
of  him  ten  years  ago.  I  have  now  been  reading  him  with  a 
mind  accustomed  to  historical  researches  and  to  political  af- 
fairs, and  I  am  astonished  at  my  own  former  blindness,  and  at 
his  greatness.  I  could  not  bear  Euripides  at  college.  I  now 
read  my  recantation.  He  has  faults,  undoubtedly.  But  what 
a  poet !  The  "  Medea,"  the  "Alcestis,"  the  "  Troades,"  the 
"  Bacchse,"  are  alone  sufficient  to  place  him  in  the  very  first 
rank.  Instead  of  depreciating  him,  as  I  have  done,  I  may,  for 
aught  I  know,  end  by  editing  him. 

I  have  read  Pindar — with  less  pleasure  than  I  feel  in  read- 
ing the  great  Attic  poets,  but  still  with  admiration.  An  idea 
occurred  to  me  which  may  very  likely  have  been  noticed  by 
a  hundred  people  before.  I  was  always  puzzled  to  under- 
stand the  reason  for  the  extremely  abrupt  transitions  in  those 
"  Odes "  of  Horace  which  are  meant  to  be  particularly  fine. 
The  "  justum  et  tenacem "  is  an  instance.  All  at  once  you 
find  yourself  in  heaven,  Heaven  knows  how.  What  the  firm- 
ness of  just  men  in  times  of  tyranny  or  of  tumult  has  to  do 
with  Juno's  oration  about  Troy,  it  is  hardly  possible  to  con- 
ceive. Then,  again,  how  strangely  the  fight  between  the  Gods 
and  the  Giants  is  tacked  on  to  the  fine  hymn  to  the  Muses  in 
that  noble  ode,  "  Descende  ccelo  et  die  age  tibia !"  This  al- 


380  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  n. 

ways  struck  me  as  a  great  fault,  and  an  inexplicable  one ;  for 
it  is  peculiarly  alien  from  the  calm  good  sense  and  good  taste 
which  distinguish  Horace. 

My  explanation  of  it  is  this :  The  "  Odes  "  of  Pindar  were 
the  acknowledged  models  of  lyric  poetry.  Lyric  poets  imi- 
tated his  manner  as  closely  as  they  could ;  and  nothing  was 
more  remarkable  in  his  compositions  than  the  extreme  vio- 
lence and  abruptness  of  the  transitions.  This  in  Pindar  was 
quite  natural  and  defensible.  He  had  to  write  an  immense 
number  of  poems  on  subjects  extremely  barren,  and  extreme- 
ly monotonous.  There  could  be  little  difference  between  one 
boxing-match  and  another.  Accordingly,  he  made  all  possible 
haste  to  escape  from  the  immediate  subject,  and  to  bring  in, 
by  hook  or  by  crook,  some  local  description ;  some  old  legend ; 
something  or  other,  in  short,  which  might  be  more  suscepti- 
ble of  poetical  embellishment,  and  less  utterly  threadbare,  than 
the  circumstances  of  a  race  or  a  wrestling-match.  This  was 
not  the  practice  of  Pindar  alone.  There  is  an  old  story  which 
proves  that  Simonides  did  the  same,  and  that  sometimes  the 
hero  of  the  day  was  nettled  at  finding  how  little  was  said 
about  him  in  the  ode  for  which  he  was  to  pay.  This  abrupt- 
ness of  transition  was,  therefore,  in  the  Greek  lyric  poets,  a 
fault  rendered  inevitable  by  the  peculiarly  barren  and  uni- 
form nature  of  the  subjects  which  they  had  to  treat.  But, 
like  many  other  faults  of  great  masters,  it  appeared  to  their 
imitators  a  beauty ;  and  a  beauty  almost  essential  to  the  grand- 
er ode.  Horace  was  perfectly  at  liberty  to  choose  his  own  sub- 
jects, and  to  treat  them  after  his  own  fashion.  But  he  con- 
founded what  was  merely  accidental  in  Pindar's  manner  with 
what  was  essential ;  and  because  Pindar,  when  he  had  to  cele- 
brate a  foolish  lad  from  ^Egina  who  had  tripped  up  another's 
heels  at  the  Isthmus,  made  all  possible  haste  to  get  away  from 
so  paltry  a  topic  to  the  ancient  heroes  of  the  race  of  ^Eacus, 
Horace  took  it  into  his  head  that  he  ought  always  to  begin  as 
far  from  the  subject  as  possible,  and  then  arrive  at  it  by  some 
strange  and  sudden  bound.  This  is  my  solution.  At  least  I 
can  find  no  better.  The  most  obscure  passage  —  at  least  the 
strangest  passage — in  all  Horace  may  be  explained  by  sup- 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  381 

posing  that  he  was  misled  by  Pindar's  example :  I  mean  that 
odd  parenthesis  in  the  "  Qualem  Ministrum :" 

quibus 
Mos  unde  dedtictus  per  omne — 

9 

This  passage,*  taken  by  itself,  always  struck  me  as  the  harsh- 
est, queerest,  and  most  preposterous  digression  in  the  world. 
But  there  are  several  things  in  Pindar  very  like  it. 

You  must  excuse  all  this,  for  I  labor  at  present  under  a  sup- 
pression of  Greek,  and  am  likely  to  do  so  for  at  least  three 
years  to  come.  Malkin  may  be  some  relief ;  but  I  am  quite 
unable  to  guess  whether  he  means  to  come  to  Calcutta.  I  am 
in  excellent  bodily  health,  and  I  am  recovering  my  mental 
health;  but  I  have  been  sorely  tried.  Money  matters  look 
well.  My  new  brother-in-law  and  I  are  brothers  in  more  than 
law.  I  am  more  comfortable  than  I  expected  to  be  in  this 
country  ;  and,  as  to  the  climate,  I  think  it,  beyond  all  compar- 
ison, better  than  that  of  the  House  of  Commons. 

Yours  affectionately,  T.  B.  MACAULAY. 

"Writing  three  days  after  the  date  of  the  foregoing  let- 
ter, Macaulay  says  to  his  old  friend  Mr.  Sharp :  "  You  see  that 
my  mind  is  not  in  great  danger  of  rusting.  The  danger  is 
that  I  may  become  a  mere  pedant.  I  feel  a  habit  of  quota- 
tion growing  on  me ;  but  I  resist  that  devil,  for  such  it  is,  and 
it  flees  from  me.  It  is  all  that  I  can  do  to  keep  Greek  and 
Latin  out  of  all  my  letters.  Wise  sayings  of  Euripides  are 
even  now  at  my  fingers'  ends.  If  I  did  not  maintain  a  con- 
stant struggle  against  this  propensity,  my  correspondence 
would  resemble  the  notes  to  the  '  Pursuits  of  Literature.'  It 
is  a  dangerous  thing  for  a  man  with  a  very  strong  memory  to 
read  very  much.  I  could  give  you  three  or  four  quotations 
this  moment  in  support  of  that  proposition ;  but  I  will  bring 
the  vicious  propensity  under  subjection,  if  I  can." 

*  Orelli  makes  au  observation  much  to  the  same  effect  in  his  note  on 
this  passage  iu  his  edition  of  1850. 


382  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.VI. 

Calcutta,  May  29th,  1835, 

DEAR  ELLIS,  —  I  am  in  great  want  of  news.  We  know  that 
the  Tories  dissolved  at  the  end  of  December,  and  we  also  know 
that  they  were  beaten  toward  the  end  of  February.*  As  to 
what  passed  in  the  interval,  we  are  quite  in  the  dark.  I  will 
not  plague  you  with  comments  on  events  which  will  have  been 
driven  out  of  your  mind  by  other  events  before  this  reaches 
you,  or  with  prophecies  which  may  be  falsified  before  you  re- 
ceive them.  About  the  final  issue  I  am  certain.  The  lan- 
guage of  the  first  great  reformer  is  that  which  I  should  use  in 
reply  to  the  exultation  of  our  Tories  here,  if  there  were  any  of 
them  who  could  understand  it  : 

(«/3ou,  irpoatvxov,  9wrrrf  rbv  Kparovvr  ad  ' 
ifjiol  S'  t\a<T(70j>  Zrjvbf,  7)  prjdev,  p,s\fi. 
SpaTd)'  Kpardrut  rovSe  TOV  fipaxvv  \povov 
Qk\ti'  Capbv  yap  OVK  dp&i  0£ot£.t 


As  for  myself,  I  rejoice  that  I  am  out  of  the  present  storm. 
"  Suave  mari  magno  ;"  or,  as  your  new  premier,  if  he  be  still 
premier,  construes,  "  It  is  a  source  of  melancholy  satisfaction." 
I  may,  indeed,  feel  the  effects  of  the  changes  here,  but  more  on 
public  than  private  grounds.  A  Tory  governor-general  is  not 
very  likely  to  agree  with  me  about  the  very  important  law  re- 
forms which  I  am  about  to  bring  before  the  council.  But  he 
is  not  likely  to  treat  me  ill  personally,  or  if  he  do, 

d\X'  ov  TI  xaipw,  fjv  TO£'  opQwQy  /3tXoc,t 


*  In  November,  1834,  the  king  called  Sir  Robert  Peel  to  power,  after  hav- 
ing, of  his  own  accord,  dismissed  the  Whig  ministry.  Parliament  was  dis- 
solved, but  the  Tories  did  not  succeed  in  obtaining  a  majority.  After  three 
months  of  constant  and  angry  fighting,  Peel  was  driven  from  office  in 
April,  1835. 

t  "Worship  thon,  adore,  and  flatter  the  monarch  of  the  hour.  To  me 
Jove  is  of  less  account  than  nothing.  Let  him  have  his  will,  and  his  scep- 
tre, for  this  brief  season ;  for  he  will  not  long  be  the  ruler  of  the  gods." 
It  is  needless  to  say  that  poor  William  the  Fourth  was  the  Jove  of  the 
Whig  Prometheus. 

t  "  It  shall  be  to  his  cost,  so  long  as  this  bow  carries  true." 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  383 

as  Philoctetes  says.  In  a  few  months  I  shall  have  enough  to 
enable  me  to  live,  after  my  very  moderate  fashion,  in  perfect 
independence  at  home ;  and  whatever  debts  any  governor-gen- 
eral may  choose  to  lay  on  me  at  Calcutta  shall  be  paid  off,  he 
may  rely  on  it,  with  compound  interest,  at  Westminster. 

My  time  is  divided  between  public  business  and  books.  -  I 
mix  with  society  as  little  as  I  can.  My  spirits  have  not  yet 
recovered — I  sometimes  think  that  they  will  never  wholly  re- 
cover— from  the  shock  which  they  received  five  months  ago. 
I  find  that  nothing  soothes  them  so  much  as  the  contempla- 
tion of  those  miracles  of  art  which  Athens  has  bequeathed  to 
us.  I  am  really  becoming,  I  hope  not  a  pedant,  but  certainly 
an  enthusiast  about  classical  literature.  I  have  just  finished  a 
second  reading  of  Sophocles.  I  am  now  deep  in  Plato,  and  in- 
tend to  go  right  through  all  his  works.  His  genius  is  above 
praise.  Even  where  he  is  most  absurd,  as,  for  example,  in  the 
"  Cratylus,"  he  shows  an  acuteness  and  an  expanse  of  intellect 
which  are  quite  a  phenomenon  by  themselves.  The  character 
of  Socrates  does  not  rise  upon  me.  The  more  I  read  about 
him,  the  less  I  wonder  that  they  poisoned  him.  If  he  had 
treated  me  as  he  is  said  to  have  treated  Protagoras,  Hippias, 
and  Gorgias,  I  could  never  have  forgiven  him. 

Nothing  has  struck  me  so  much  in  Plato's  dialogues  as  the 
raillery.  At  college,  somehow  or  other,  I  did  not  understand 
or  appreciate  it.  I  can  not  describe  to  you  the  way  in  which 
it  now  tickles  me.  I  often  sink  forward  on  my  huge  old 
"  Marsilius  Ficinus "  in  a  fit  of  laughter.  I  should  say  that 
there  never  was  a  vein  of  ridicule  so  rich,  and  at  the  same 
time  so  delicate.  It  is  superior  to  Voltaire's ;  nay,  to  Pascal's. 
Perhaps  there  are  one  or  two  passages  in  Cervantes,  and  one 
or  two  in  Fielding,  that  might  give  a  modern  reader  a  notion 
of  it. 

I  have  very  nearly  finished  Livy.  I  never  read  him  through 
before.  I  admire  him  greatly,  and  would  give  a  quarter's  sal- 
ary to  recover  the  lost  Decades.  While  I  was  reading  the  ear- 
lier books  I  went  again  through  Niebuhr ;  and  I  am  sorry  to 
say  that,  having  always  been  a  little  skeptical  about  his  mer- 
its, I  am  now  a  confirmed  unbeliever.  I  do  not,  of  course,  mean 


384  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  vi. 

that  he  has  no  merit.  He  was  a  man  of  immense  learning 
and  of  great  ingenuity  ;  but  his  mind  was  utterly  wanting  in 
the  faculty  by  which  a  demonstrated  truth  is  distinguished 
from  a  plausible  supposition.  He  is  not  content  with  suggest- 
ing that  an  event  may  have  happened.  He  is  certain  that  it 
happened,  and  calls  on  the  reader  to  be  certain  too  (though  not 
a  trace  of  it  exists  in  any  record  whatever),  because  it  would 
solve  the  phenomena  so  neatly.  Just  read  over  again,  if  you 
have  forgotten  it,  the  conjectural  restoration  of  the  inscription 
in  page  126  of  the  second  volume ;  and  then,  on  your  honor 
as  a  scholar  and  a  man  of  sense,  tell  me  whether  in  Bentley's 
edition  of  Milton  there  is  any  thing  which  approaches  to  the 
audacity  of  that  emendation.  Niebuhr  requires  you  to  believe 
that  some  of  the  greatest  men  in  Rome  were  burned  alive  in 
the  Circus ;  that  this  event  was  commemorated  by  an  inscrip- 
tion on  a  monument,  one-half  of  which  is  still  in  existence ; 
but  that  no  Roman  historian  knew  any  thing  about  it ;  and 
that  all  tradition  of  the  event  was  lost,  though  the  memory 
of  anterior  events  much  less  important  has  reached  our  time. 
TVhen  you  ask  for  a  reason,  he  tells  you  plainly  that  such  a 
thing  can  not  be  established  by  reason  ;  that  he  is  sure  of  it ; 
and  that  you  must  take  his  word.  This  sort  of  intellectual 
despotism  always  moves  me  to  mutiny,  and  generates  a  dis- 
position to  pull  down  the  reputation  of  the  dogmatist.  Kie- 
buhr's  learning  was  immeasurably  superior  to  mine;  but  I 
think  myself  quite  as  good  a  judge  of  evidence  as  he  was.  I 
might  easily  believe  him  if  he  told  me  that  there  were  proofs 
which  I  had  nevef  seen  ;  but,  when  he  produces  all  his  proofs, 
I  conceive  that  I  am  perfectly  competent  to  pronounce  on 
their  value. 

As  I  turned  over  his  leaves  just  now,  I  lighted  on  another 
instance  of  what  I  can  not  but  call  ridiculous  presumption. 
He  says  that  Martial  committed  a  blunder  in  making  the  pe- 
nultimate of  Porsena  short.  Strange  that  so  great  a  scholar 
should  not  know  that  Horace  had  done  so  too ! 

Minacis  aut  Etrusca  Porsense  manus. 

There  is  something  extremely  nauseous  to  me  in  a  German 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  385 

professor  telling  the  world,  on  his  own  authority,  and  without 
giving  the  smallest  reason,  that  two  of  the  best  Latin  poets 
were  ignorant  of  the  quantity  of  a  word  which  they  must  have 
used  in  their  exercises  at  school  a  hundred  times. 

As  to  the  general  capacity  of  Niebuhr  for  political  specula- 
tions, let  him  be  judged  by  the  preface  to  the  second  volume. 
He  there  says,  referring  to  the  French  Revolution  of  July, 
1830,  that  "  unless  God  send  us  some  miraculous  help,  we  have 
to  look  forward  to  a  period  of  destruction  similar  to  that 
which  the  Roman  world  experienced  about  the  middle  of  the 
third  century."  Now,  when  I  see  a  man  scribble  such  abject 
nonsense  about  events  which  are  passing  under  our  eyes,  what 
confidence  can  I  put  in  his  judgment  as  to  the  connection  of 
causes  and  effects  in  times  very  imperfectly  known  to  us  ? 

But  I  must  bring  my  letter,  or  review,  to  a  close.  Remem- 
ber me  most  kindly  to  your  wife.  Tell  Frank  that  I  mean  to 
be  a  better  scholar  than  he  when  I  come  back,  and  that  he 
must  work  hard  if  he  means  to  overtake  me.  Ever,  dear  Ellis, 
Your  affectionate  friend,  T.  B.  MACAULAY. 

Calcutta,  August  25tli,  1835. 

DEAR  ELLIS, — Cameron  arrived  here  about  a  fortnight  ago, 
and  we  are  most  actively  engaged  in  preparing  a  complete 
criminal  code  for  India.  He  and  I  agree  excellently.  Ryan, 
the  most  liberal  of  judges,  lends  us  his  best  assistance.  I 
heartily  hope,  and  fully  believe,  that  we  shall  put  the  whole 
penal  law,  and  the  whole  law  of  criminal  procedure,  into  a 
moderately  sized  volume.  I  begin  to  take  a  very  warm  in- 
terest in  this  work.  It  is,  indeed,  one  of  the  finest  employ- 
ments .of  the  intellect  that  it  is  easy  to  conceive.  I  ought, 
however,  to  tell  you  that  the  more  progress  I  make  as  a  legis- 
lator, the  more  intense  my  contempt  for  the  mere  technical 
study  of  law  becomes. 

I  am  deep  in  the  examination  of  the  political  theories  of 
the  old  philosophers.  I  have  read  Plato's  "Republic,"  and 
his  "  Laws ;"  and  I  am  now  reading  Aristotle's  "  Politics ;" 
after  which  I  shall  go  through  Plato's  two  treatises  again.  I 
every  now  and  then  read  one  of  Plutarch's  Lives  on  an  idle 

VOL.  I.— 25 


386  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  vi. 

afternoon ;  and  in  this  way  I  have  got  through  a  dozen  of 
them.  I  like  him  prodigiously.  He  is  inaccurate,  to  be  sure, 
and  a  romancer ;  but  he  tells  a  story  delightfully,  and  his  il- 
lustrations and  sketches  of  character  are  as  good  as  any  thing 
in  ancient  eloquence.  I  have  never  till  now  rated  him  fairly. 
As  to  Latin,  I  am  just  finishing  Lucan,  who  remains  pretty 
much  where  he  was  in  my  opinion ;  and  I  am  busily  engaged 
with  Cicero,  whose  character,  moral  and  intellectual,  interests 
me  prodigiously.  I  think  that  I  see  the  whole  man  through 
and  through.  But  this  is  too  vast  a  subject  for  a  letter.  I 
have  gone  through  all  Ovid's  poems.  I  admire  him;  but  I 
was  tired  to  death  before  I  got  to  the  end.  I  amused  myself 
one  evening  with  turning  over  the  "  Metamorphoses,"  to  see 
if  I  could  find  any  passage  of  ten  lines  which  could,  by  pos- 
sibility, -have  been  written  by  Virgil.  Whether  I  was  in  ill 
luck  or  no,  I  can  not  tell ;  but  I  hunted  for  half  an  hour  with- 
out the  smallest  success.  At  last  I  chanced  to  light  on  a  little 
passage  more  Yirgilian,  to  my  thinking,  than  Yirgil  himself. 
Tell  me  what  you  say  to  my  criticism.  It  is  part  of  Apollo's 
speech  to  the  laurel. 

Semper  habebuut 

Te  coma,  te  citharae,  te  nostrae,  laure,  pharetrae. 
Tu  ducibus  Latiis  aderis,  cum  Iseta  triumphnm 
Vox  canet,  et  longas  viseut  Capitolia  pompas. 
Portions  Angustis  eadem  fidissima  custos 
Ante  fores  stabis,  mediamque  tuebere  quercnm. 

As  to  other  Latin  writers,  Sail  list  has  gone  sadly  down  in 
my  opinion.  Csesar  has  risen  wonderfully.  I  think  him 
fully  entitled  to  Cicero's  praise.*  He  has  won  the  honor  of 

*  la  the  dialogue  "  De  Claris  Oratoribus  "  Cicero  makes  Atticus  say  that 
a  consummate  judge  of  style  (who  is  evidently  intended  for  Cicero  him- 
self) pronounces  Caesar's  Latin  to  be  the  most  elegant,  with  one  implied 
exception,  that  had  ever  been  heard  in  the  Senate  or  the  Fornm.  Atticus 
then  goes  on  to  detail  at  full  length  a  compliment  which  Caesar  had  paid 
to  Cicero's  powers  of  expression ;  and  Brutus  declares  with  enthusiasm 
that  such  praise,  coming  from  such  a  quarter,  is  worth  more  than  a  Tri- 
umph, as  Triumphs  were  then  given ;  and  inferior  in  value  only  to  the 
honors  which  were  voted  to  the  statesman  who  had  baffled  Catiline.  The 
whole  passage  is  a  model  of  self-glorification,  exquisite  in  skill  and  finish. 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  387 

an  excellent  historian  while  attempting  merely  to  give  hints 
for  history.  But  what  are  they  all  to  the  great  Athenian  ? 
I  do  assure  you  that  there  is  no  prose  composition  in  the 
world,  not  even  the  "  De  Corona,"  which  I  place  so  high  as 
the  seventh  book  of  Thucydides.  It  is  the  ne  plus  ultra  of 
human  art.  I  was  delighted  to  find  in  Gray's  letters  the  oth- 
er day  this  query  to  "Wharton  :  "  The  retreat  from  Syracuse — 
Is  it,  or  is  it  not,  the  finest  thing  you  ever  read  in  your  life  ?" 
Did  you  ever  read  Athenseus  through  ?  I  never  did ;  but 
I  am  meditating  an  attack  on  him.  The  multitude  of  quota- 
tions looks  very  tempting ;  and  I  never  open  him  for  a  min- 
ute without  being  paid  for  my  trouble. 

Yours  very  affectionately,  T.  B.  MACAULAY. 

Calcutta,  December  30th,  1835. 

DEAR  ELLIS, — What  the  end  of  the  Municipal  Reform  Bill 
is  to  be  I  can  not  conjecture.  Our  latest  English  intelligence 
is  of  the  15th  of  August.  The  Lords*  were  then  busy  in  ren- 
dering the  only  great  service  that  I  expect  them  ever  to  ren- 
der to  the  nation  ;  that  is  to  say,  in  hastening  the  day  of  reck- 
oning. But  I  will  not  fill  my  paper  with  English  politics. 

I  am  in  excellent  health.  So  are  my  sister  and  brother-in- 
law,  and  their  little  girl,  whom  I  am  always  nursing ;  and  of 
whom  I  am  becoming  fonder  than  a  wise  man,  with  half  my 
experience,  would  choose  to  be  of  any  thing  except  himself. 
I  have  but  very  lately  begun  to  recover  my  spirits.  The  tre- 
mendous blow  which  fell  on  me  at  the  beginning  of  this  year 
has  left  marks  behind  it  which  I  shall  carry  to  my  grave. 
Literature  has  saved  my  life  and  my  reason.  Even  now,  I 
dare  not,  in  the  intervals  of  business,  remain  alone  for  a  min- 
ute without  a  book  in  my  hand.  What  my  course  of  life 
will  be  when  I  return  to  England  is  very  doubtful.  But  I  am 
more  than  half  determined  to  abandon  politics,  and  to  give 
myself  wholly  to  letters ;  to  undertake  some  great  historical 

*  In  the  middle  of  August  the  Irish  Tithe  Bill  went  up  to  the  House  of 
Lords,  where  it  was  destined  to  uudergo  a  mutilation  which  was  fatal  to 
its  existence. 


388  LIFE  ASD  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  vi. 

work  which  may  be  at  once  the  business  and  the  amusement 
of  my  life ;  and  to  leave  the  pleasures  of  pestiferous  rooms, 
sleepless  nights,  aching  heads,  and  diseased  stomachs,  to  Roe- 
buck and  to  Praed. 

In  England  I  might  probably  be  of  a  very  different  opinion. 
But,  in  the  quiet  of  my  own  little  grass-plot — when  the  moon, 
at  its  rising,  finds  me  with  the  "  Philoctetes "  or  the  "De 
Finibus"  in  my  hand  —  I  often  wonder  what  strange  infat- 
uation leads  men  who  can  do  something  better,  to  squander 
their  intellect,  their  health,  their  energy,  on  such  objects  as 
those  which  most  statesmen  are  engaged  in  pursuing.  I  com- 
prehend perfectly  how  a  man  who  can  debate,  but  who  would 
make  a  very  indifferent  figure  as  a  contributor  to  an  annual 
or  a  magazine — such  a  man  as  Stanley,  for  example — should 
take  the  only  line  by  which  he  can  attain  distinction.  But 
that  a  man  before  whom  the  two  paths  of  literature  and  poli- 
tics lie  open,  and  who  might  hope  for  eminence  in  either, 
should  choose  politics,  and  quit  literature,  seems  to  me  mad- 
ness. On  the  one  side  are  health,  leisure,  peace  of  mind,  the 
search  after  truth,  and  all  the  enjoyments  of  friendship  and 
conversation.  On  the  other  side  are  almost  certain  ruin  to  the 
constitution,  constant  labor,  constant  anxiety.  Every  friend- 
ship which  a  man  may  have  becomes  precarious  as  soon  as  he 
engages  in  politics.  As  to  abuse,  men  soon  become  callous  to 
it ;  but  the  discipline  which  makes  them  callous  is  very  severe. 
And  for  what  is  it  that  a  man,  who  might,  if  he  chose,  rise 
and  lie  down  at  his  own  hour,  engage  in  any  study,  enjoy  any 
amusement,  and  visit  any  place,  consents  to  make  himself  as 
much  a  prisoner  as  if  he  were  within  the  rules  of  the  Fleet ; 
to  be  tethered  during  eleven  months  of  the  year  within  the 
circle  of  half  a  mile  round  Charing  Cross ;  to  sit,  or  stand, 
night  after  night  for  ten  or  twelve  hours,  inhaling  a  noisome 
atmosphere,  and  listening  to  harangues  of  which  nine-tenths 
are  far  below  the  level  of  a  leading  article  in  a  newspaper  I 
For  what  is  it  that  he  submits,  day  after  day,  to  see  the  morn- 
ing break  over  the  Thames,  and  then  totters  home,  with  burst- 
ing temples,  to  his  bed  ?  Is  it  for  fame  ?  Who  would  com- 
pare the  fame  of  Charles  Townshend  to  that  of  Hume,  that 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  389 

of  Lord  North  to  that  of  Gibbon,  that  of  Lord  Chatham  to 
that  of  Johnson  ?  Who  can  look  back  on  the  life  of  Burke, 
and  not- regret  that  the  years  which  he  passed  in  ruining  his 
health  and  temper  by  political  exertions  were  not  passed  in 
the  composition  of  some  great  and  durable  work  ?  Who  can 
read  the  letters  to  Atticus,  and  not  feel  that  Cicero  would 
have  been  an  infinitely  happier  and  better  man,  and  a  not  less 
celebrated  man,  if  he  had  left  us  fewer  speeches,  and  more 
Academic  Questions  and  Tusculan  Disputations?  if  he  had 
passed  the  time  which  he  spent  in  brawling  with  Vatinius  and 
Clodius  in  producing  a  history  of  Eome  superior  even  to  that 
of  Livy  ?  But  these,  as  I  said,  are  meditations  in  a  quiet  gar- 
den, situated  far  beyond  the  contagious  influence  of  English 
faction.  What  I  might  feel  if  I  again  saw  Downing  Street 
and  Palace  Yard  is  another  question.  I  tell  you  sincerely 
my  present  feelings. 

I  have  cast  up  my  reading  account,  and  brought  it  to  the 
end  of  the  year  1835.  It  includes  December,  1834;  for  I 
came"  into  my  house  and  unpacked  my  books  at  the  end  of 
November,  1834.  During  the  last  thirteen  months  I  have 
read  ^schylus  twice ;  Sophocles  twice ;  Euripides  once ;  Pin- 
dar twice ;  Callimachus ;  Apollonius  Rhodius ;  Quintus  Cala- 
ber ;  Theocritus  twice ;  Herodotus ;  Thucydides ;  almost  all 
Xenophon's  works;  almost  all  Plato;  Aristotle's  "Politics," 
and  a  good  deal  of  his  "  Organon,"  besides  dipping  elsewhere 
in  him ;  the  whole  of  Plutarch's  "  Lives ;"  about  half  of  Lu- 
cian  ;  two  or  three  books  of  Athenaeus  ;  Plautus  twice ;  Ter- 
ence twice ;  Lucretius  twice ;  Catullus ;  Tibullus ;  Propertius ; 
Lucan ;  Statins  ;  Silius  Italicus ;  Livy ;  Velleius  Paterculus ; 
Sallust ;  Caesar ;  and,  lastly,  Cicero.  I  have,  indeed,  still  a  lit- 
tle of  Cicero  left ;  but  I  shall  finish  him  in  a  few  days.  I  am 
now  deep  in  Aristophanes  and  Lucian.  Of  Aristophanes  I 
think  as  I  always  thought ;  but  Lucian  has  agreeably  sur- 
prised me.  At  school  I  read  some  of  his  "  Dialogues  of  the 
Dead  "  when  I  was  thirteen ;  and,  to  my  shame,  I  never,  to 
the  best  of  my  belief,  read  a  line  of  him  since.  I  am  charm- 
ed with  him.  His  style  seems  to  me  to  be  superior  to  that 
of  any  extant  writer  who  lived  later  than  the  age  of  Demos- 


390  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  n. 

thenes  and  Theophrastus.  He  has  a  most  peculiar  and  deli- 
cious vein  of  humor.  It  is  not  the  humor  of  Aristophanes ; 
it  is  not  that  of  Plato ;  and  yet  it  is  akin  to  both :  not  quite 
equal,  I  admit,  to  either,  but  still  exceedingly  charming.  I 
hardly  know  where  to  find  an  instance  of  a  writer,  in  the  de- 
cline of  a  literature,  who  has  shown  an  invention  so  rich  and 
a  taste  so  pure.  But  if  I  get  on  these  matters  I  shall  fill 
sheet  after  sheet.  They  must  wait  till  we  take  another  long 
walk,  or  another  tavern  dinner,  together ;  that  is,  till  the  sum- 
mer of  1838. 

I  had  a  long  story  to  tell  you  about  a  classical  examination 
here ;  but  I  have  not  time.  I  can  only  say  that  some  of  the 
competitors  tried  to  read  the  Greek  with  the  papers  upside 
down ;  and  that  the  great  man  of  the  examination,  the  Thirl- 
wall  of  Calcutta,  a  graduate  of  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  trans- 
lated the  words  of  Theophrastus,  oaag  \fiTovpyiaz  \t\tirovp- 
7»jK£,*  "  how  many  times  he  has  performed  divine  service." 
Ever  yours  affectionately,  T.  B.  MACAULAY. 

That  the  enormous  list  of  classical  works  recorded  in  the 
foregoing  letter  was  not  only  read  through,  but  read  with 
care,  is  proved  by  the  pencil-marks,  single,  double,  and  treble, 
which  meander  down  the  margin  of  such  passages  as  excited 
the  admiration  of  the  student;  and  by  the  remarks,  literary, 
historical,  and  grammatical,  with  which  the  critic  has  inter- 
spersed every  volume,  and  sometimes  every  page.  In  the 
case  of  a  favorite  writer,  Macaulay  frequently  corrects  the  er- 
rors of  the  press,  and  even  the  punctuation,  as  minutely  as 
if  he  were  preparing  the  book  for  another  edition.  He  read 
Plautus,f  Terence,  and  Aristophanes  four  times  through  at 
Calcutta,  and  Euripides  thrice.  In  his  copy  of  Quintus  Ca- 


*  "  How  many  public  services  he  had  discharged  at  his  own  expense." 
Macaulay  used  to  say  that  a  lady  who  dips  into  Mr.  Grote's  history,  and 
learns  that  Alcibiades  won  the  heart  of  his  fellow-citizens  by  the  novelty 
of  his  theories  and  the  splendor  of  his  liturgies,  may  get  a  very  false  no- 
tion of  that  statesman's  relations  with  the  Athenian  public. 

t  See  the  Appendix  at  the  end  of  this  volume. 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  391 

laber  (a  versifier  who  is  less  unknown  by  the  title  of  Quintus 
Smyrnaeus),  appear  the  entries, 

"  September  22d,  1835. 
Turned  over,  July  13th,  1837." 

It  may  be  doubted  whether  the  "  Pandects  "  would  have  attain- 
ed the  celebrity  which  they  enjoy,  if,  in  the  course  of  the  three 
years  during  which  Justinian's  Law  Commission  was  at  work, 
the  president,  Tribonian,  had  read  Quintus  Smyrnaeus  twice. 

Calcutta,  May  30th,  1836. 

DEAR  ELLIS, — I  have  just  received  your  letter  dated  De- 
cember 28th.  How  time  flies !  Another  hot  season  has  al- 
most passed  away,  and  we  are  daily  expecting  the  beginning  of 
the  rains.  Cold  season,  hot  season,  and  rainy  season  are  all 
much  the  same  to  me.  I  shall  have  been  two  years  on  In- 
dian ground  in  less  than  a  fortnight,  and  I  have  not  taken  ten 
grains  of  solid,  or  a  pint  of  liquid,  medicine  during  the  whole 
of  that  time.  If  I  judged  only  from  my  own  sensations,  I 
should  say  that  this  climate  is  absurdly  maligned;  but  the 
yellow,  spectral  figures  which  surround  me  serve  to  correct 
the  conclusions  which  I  should  be  inclined  to  draw  from  the 
state  of  my  own  health. 

One  execrable  effect  the  climate  produces.  It  destroys  all 
the  works  of  man  with  scarcely  one  exception.  Steel  rusts ; 
razors  lose  their  edge ;  thread  decays ;  clothes  fall  to  pieces ; 
books  molder  away  and  drop  out  of  their  bindings;  plaster 
cracks ;  timber  rots ;  matting  is  in  shreds.  The  sun,  the  steam 
of  this  vast  alluvial  tract,  and  the  infinite  armies  of  white  ants, 
make  such  havoc  with  buildings  that  a  house  requires  a  com- 
plete repair  every  three  years.  Ours  was  in  this  situation 
about  three  months  ago ;  and,  if  we  had  determined  to  brave 
the  rains  without  any  precautions,  we  should,  in  all  probabil- 
ity, have  had  the  roof  down  on  our  heads.  Accordingly,  we 
were  forced  to  migrate  for  six  weeks  from  our  stately  apart- 
ments and  our  flower-beds  to  a  dungeon  where  we  were  sti- 
fled with  the  stench  of  native  cookery,  and  deafened  by  the 
noise  of  native  music.  At  last  we  have  returned  to  our  house. 


392  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  vi. 

We  found  it  all  snow-white  and  pea-green  ;  and  we  rejoice  to 
think  that  we  shall  not  again  be  under  the  necessity  of  quit- 
ting it  till  we  quit  it  for  a  ship  bound  on  a  voyage  to  London. 
"We  have  been  for  some  months  in  the  middle  of  what  the 
people  here  think  a  political  storni..  To  a  person  accustomed 
to  the  hurricanes  of  English  faction  this  sort  of  tempest  in  a 
horse-pond  is  merely  ridiculous.  We  have  put  the  English 
settlers  up  the  country  under  the  exclusive  jurisdiction  of  the 
company's  courts  in  civil  actions  in  which  they  are  concerned 
with  natives.  The  English  settlers  are  perfectly  contented; 
but  the  lawyers  of  the  Supreme  Court  have  set  up  a  yelp 
which  they  think  terrible,  and  which  has  infinitely  diverted 
me.  They  have  selected  me  as  the  object  of  their  invectives, 
and  I  am  generally  the  theme  of  five  or  six  columns  of  prose 
and  verse  daily.  I  have  not  patience  to  read  a  tenth  part  of 
what  they  put  forth.  The  last  ode  in  my  praise  which  I  pe- 
rused began, 

Soon  we  hope  they  will  recall  ye, 
Tom  Macaulay,  Tom  Macaulay. 

The  last  prose  which  I  read  was  a  parallel  between  me  and 
Lord  Strafford. 

My  mornings,  from  five  to  nine,  are  quite  my  own.  I  still 
give  them  to  ancient  literature.  I  have  read  Aristophanes 
twice  through  since  Christmas ;  and  have  also  read  Herodotus, 
and  Thucydides,  again.  I  got  into  a  way  last  year  of  reading 
a  Greek  play  every  Sunday.  I  began  on  Sunday,  the  18th  of 
October,  with  the  "  Prometheus,"  and  next  Sunday  I  shall  fin- 
ish with  the  "  Cyclops  "  of  Euripides.  Euripides  has  made  a 
complete  conquest  of  me.  It  has  been  unfortunate  for  him 
that  we  have  so  many  of  his  pieces.  It  has,  on  the  other 
hand,  I  suspect,  been  fortunate  for  Sophocles  that  so  few  of 
his  have  come  down  to  us.  Almost  every  play  of  Sophocles 
which  is  now  extant  was  one  of  his  masterpieces.  There  is 
hardly  one  of  them  which  is  not  mentioned  with  high  praise 
by  some  ancient  writer.  Yet  one  of  them,  the  "  Trachinise," 
is,  to  my  thinking,  very  poor  and  insipid.  Now,  if  we  had 
nineteen  plays  of  Sophocles,  of  which  twelve  or  thirteen  should 
be  no  better  than  the  "  Trachinise  " — and  if,  on  the  other  hand, 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  393 

only  seven  pieces  of  Euripides  had  come  down  to  us,  and  if 
those  seven  had  been  the  "  Medea,"  the  "  Bacchae,"  the  "  Iphi- 
genia  in  Aulis,"  the  "  Orestes,"  the  "  Phcenissae,"  the  "  Hip- 
polytus,"  and  the  "Alcestis" —  I  am  not  sure  that  the  rela- 
tive position  which  the  two  poets  now  hold  in  our  estimation 
would  not  be  greatly  altered. 

I  have  not  done  much  in  Latin.  I  have  been  employed  in 
turning  over  several  third-rate  and  fourth-rate  writers.  After 
finishing  Cicero,  I  read  through  the  works  of  both  the  Sene- 
cas,  father  and  son.  There  is  a  great  deal  in  the  "  Controver- 
sies "  both  of  curious  information  and  of  judicious  criticism. 
As  to  the  son,  I  can  not  bear  him.  His  style  affects  me  in 
something  the  same  way  with  that  of  Gibbon.  But  Lucius 
Seneca's  affectation  is  even  more  rank  than  Gibbon's.  His 
works  are  made  up  of  mottoes.  There  is  hardly  a  sentence 
which  might  not  be  quoted ;  but  to  read  him  straight  forward 
is  like  dining  on  nothing  but  anchovy  sauce.  I  have  read,  as 
one  does  read  such  stuff,  Valerius  Maximus,  Annseus  Floras, 
Lucius  Ampelius,  and  Aurelius  Victor.  I  have  also  gone 
through  Phaedrus.  I  am  now  better  employed.  I  am  deep 
in  the  "Annals  "  of  Tacitus,  and  I  am  at  the  same  time  read- 
ing Suetonius. 

You  are  so  rich  in  domestic  comforts  that  I  am  inclined  to 
envy  you.  I  am  not,  however,  without  my  share.  I  am  as 
fond  of  my  little  niece  as  her  father.  I  pass  an  hour  or  more 
every  day  in  nursing  her,  and  teaching  her  to  talk.  She  has 
got  as  far  as  Ba,  Pa,  and  Ma ;  which,  as  she  is  not  eight  months 
old,  we  consider  as  proofs  of  a  genius  little  inferior  to  that  of 
Shakspeare  or  Sir  Isaac  Newton. 

The  municipal  elections  have  put  me  in  good  spirits  as  to 
English  politics.     I  was  rather  inclined  to  despondency. 
Ever  yours  affectionately,  T.  B.  MACAULAY. 

Calcutta,  July  25th,  1836. 

MY  DEAK  ELLIS, — I  have  heard  from  you  again,  and  glad  I 
always  am  to  hear  from  you.  There  are  few  things  to  which 
I  look  forward  with  more  pleasure  than  to  our  meeting.  It 
is  really  worth  while  to  go  into  banishment  for  a  few  years 


394  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  vi. 

for  the  pleasure  of  going  home  again.  Yet  that  home  will  in 
some  things  be  a  different  home — oh,  how  different  a  home ! — 
from  that  to  which  I  expected  to  return.  But  I  will  not  stir 
up  the  bitterness  of  sorrow  which  has  at  last  subsided. 

You  take  interest,  I  see,  in  my  Greek  and  Latin  studies.  I 
continue  to  pursue  them  steadily  and  actively.  I  am  now 
reading  Demosthenes  with  interest  and  admiration  indescriba- 
ble. I  am  slowly,  at  odd  minutes,  getting  through  the  stupid 
trash  of  Diodorus.  I  have  read  through  Seneca,  and  an  af- 
fected, empty  scribbler  he  is.  I  have  read  Tacitus  again,  and, 
by-the-bye,  I  will  tell  you  a  curious  circumstance  relating  to 
that  matter.  In  my  younger  days  I  always  thought  the  "An- 
nals "  a  prodigiously  superior  work  to  the  "  History."  I  was 
surprised  to  find  that  the  "Annals  "  seemed  cold  and  poor  to 
me  on  the  last  reading.  I  began  to  think  that  I  had  over- 
rated Tacitus.  But,  when  I  began  the  "  History,"  I  was  en- 
chanted, and  thought  more  highly  of  him  than  ever.  I  went 
back  to  the  "Annals,"  and  liked  them  even  better  than  the 
"History."  All  at  once  the  explanation  of  this  occurred  to 
me.  While  I  was  reading  the  "Annals "  I  was  reading  Thu- 
cydides.  When  I  began  the  "  History,"  I  began  the  "  Hellen- 
ics." What  made  the  "Annals "  appear  cold  and  poor  to  me 
was  the  intense  interest  which  Thucydides  inspired.  Indeed, 
what  coloring  is  there  which  would  not  look  tame  when  placed 
side  by  side  with  the  magnificent  light  and  the  terrible  shade 
of  Thucydides?  Tacitus  was  a  great  man ;  but  he  was  not  up 
to  the  Sicilian  expedition.  When  I  finished  Thucydides,  and 
took  up  Xenophon,  the  case  was  reversed.  Tacitus  had  been 
a  foil  to  Thucydides.  Xenophon  was  a  foil  to  Tacitus. 

I  have  read  Pliny  the  Younger.  Some  of  the  "  Epistles  " 
are  interesting.  Nothing  more  stupid  than  the  "  Panegyric  " 
was  ever  preached  in  the  University  church.  I  am  reading 
the  "Augustan  History,"  and  Aulus  Gellius.  Aulus  is  a  fa- 
vorite of  mine.  I  think  him  one  of  the  best  writers  of  his 
class. 

I  read  in  the  evenings  a  great  deal  of  English,  French,  and 
Italian,  and  a  little  Spanish.  I  have  picked  up  Portuguese 
enough  to  read  Camoens  with  care,  and  I  want  no  more.  I 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  395 

have  adopted  an  opinion  about  the  Italian  historians  quite 
different  from  that  which  I  formerly  held,  and  which,  I  be- 
lieve, is  generally  considered  as  orthodox.  I  place  Fra  Paolo 
decidedly  at  the  head  of  them,  and  next  to  him  Davila,  whom 
I  take  to  be  the  best  modern  military  historian  except  Col- 
onel Napier.  Davila's  battle  of  Ivry  is  worthy  of  Thucydides 
himself.  Next  to  Davila  I  put  Guicciardini,  and  last  of  all 
Machiavelli.  But  I  do  not  think  that  you  ever  read  much 
Italian. 

The  English  poetry  of  the  day  has  very  few  attractions  for 
me.  "  Van  Artevelde  "  is  far  the  best  specimen  that  I  have  late- 
ly seen.  I  do  not  much  like  Talf  ourd's  "  Ion,"  but  I  mean  to 
read  it  again.  It  contains  pretty  lines ;  but,  to  my  thinking, 
it  is  neither  fish  nor  flesh.  There  is  too  much,  and  too  little, 
of  the  antique  about  it.  Nothing  but  the  most  strictly  clas- 
sical costume  can  reconcile  me  to  a  mythological  plot ;  and  Ion 
is  a  modern  philanthropist,  whose  politics  and  morals  have 
been  learned  from  the  publications  of  the  Society  for  the  Dif- 
fusion of  Useful  Knowledge. 

I  do  not  know  whether  the  noise  which  the  lawyers  of  the 
Supreme  Court  have  been  raising  against  our  legislative  au- 
thority has  reached,  or  will  reach,  England.  They  held  a  pub- 
lic meeting,  which  ended  —  or  rather  began,  continued,  and 
ended — in  a  riot ;  and  ever  since  then  the  leading  agitators 
have  been  challenging  each  other,  refusing  each  other's  chal- 
lenges, libeling  each  other,  swearing  the  peace  against  each 
other,  and  blackballing  each  other.  Mr.  Longueville  Clarke, 
who  aspires  to  be  the  O'Connell  of  Calcutta,  called  another 
lawyer  a  liar.  The  last  -  mentioned  lawyer  challenged  Mr. 
Longueville  Clarke.  Mr.  Longueville  Clarke  refused  to  fight, 
on  the  ground  that  his  opponent  had  been  guilty  of  hugging 
attorneys.  The  Bengal  Club  accordingly  blackballed  Longue- 
ville. This,  and  some  other  similar  occurrences,  have  made 
the  opposition  here  thoroughly  ridiculous  and  contemptible. 
They  will  probably  send  a  petition  home;  but,  unless  the 
House  of  Commons  has  undergone  a  great  change  since  1833, 
they  have  no  chance  there. 

I  have  almost  brought  my  letter  to  a  close  without  mention- 


396  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  vi. 

ing  the  most  important  matter  about  which  I  had  to  write.  I 
dare  say  you  have  heard  that  my  uncle,  General  Macaulay, 
who  died  last  February,  has  left  me  £10,000.  This  legacy, 
together  with  what  I  shall  have  saved  by  the  end  of  1837, 
will  make  me  quite  a  rich  man  ;  richer  than  I  even  wish  to  be 
as  a  single  man  ;  and  every  day  renders  it  more  unlikely  that 
I  should  marry. 

We  have  had  a  very  unhealthy  season ;  but  sickness  has 
not  come  near  our  house.  My  sister,  my  brother-in-law,  and 
their  little  child,  are  as  well  as  possible.  As  to  me,  I  think 
that,  as  Bonaparte  said  of  himself  after  the  Russian  campaign, 
"  J'ai  le  diable  au  corps."  Ever  yours  affectionately, 

T.  B.  MACAULAY. 

To  Macvey  Napier,  Esq. 

Calcutta,  November  26th,  1836. 

DEAK  NAPIER, — At  last  I  send  you  an  article  of  intermina- 
ble length  about  Lord  Bacon.  I  hardly  know  whether  it  is 
not  too  long  for  an  article  in  a  Review ;  but  the  subject  is 
of  such  vast  extent  that  I  could  easily  have  made  the  paper 
twice  as  long  as  it  is. 

About  the  historical  and  political  part  there  is  no  great 
probability  that  we  shall  differ  in  opinion ;  but  what  I  have 
said  about  Bacon's  philosophy  is  widely  at  variance  with  what 
Dugald  Stewart  and  Mackintosh  have  said  on  the  same  sub- 
ject. I  have  not  your  essay ;  nor  have  I  read  it  since  I  read 
it  at  Cambridge,  with  very  great  pleasure,  but  without  any 
knowledge  of  the  subject.  I  have  at  present  only  a  very  faint 
and  general  recollection  of  its  contents,  and  have  in  vain  tried 
to  procure  a  copy  of  it  here.  I  fear,  however,  that,  differing 
widely  as  I  do  from  Stewart  and  Mackintosh,  I  shall  hardly 
agree  with  you.  My  opinion  is  formed,  not  at  second  hand, 
like  those  of  nine-tenths  of  the  people  who  talk  about  Bacon, 
but  after  several  very  attentive  perusals  of  his  greatest  works, 
and  after  a  good  deal  of  thought.  If  I  am  in  the  wrong,  my 
errors  may  set  the  minds  of  others  at  work,  and  may  be  the 
means  of  bringing  both  them  and  me  to  a  knowledge  of  the 
truth.  I  never  bestowed  so  much  care  on  any  thing  that  I 


1834-'38.]  LOED  MACAULAY.  397 

have  written.  There  is  not  a  sentence  in  the  latter  half  of 
the  article  which  has  not  been  repeatedly  recast.  I  have  no 
expectation  that  the  popularity  of  the  article  will  bear  any 
proportion  to  the  trouble  which  I  have  expended  on  it.  But 
the  trouble  has  been  so  great  a  pleasure  to  me  that  I  have 
already  been  greatly  overpaid.  Pray  look  carefully  to  the 
printing. . 

In  little  more  than  a  year  I  shall  be  embarking  for  En- 
gland, and  I  have  determined  to  employ  the  four  months  of 
my  voyage  in  mastering  the  German  language.  I  should  be 
much  obliged  to  you  to  send  me  out,  as  early  as  you  can,  so 
that  they  may  be  certain  to  arrive  in  time,  the  best  grammar, 
and  the  best  dictionary,  that  can  be  procured ;  a  German  Bi- 
ble ;  Schiller's  works  ;  Goethe's  works ;  and  Mebuhr's  "  His- 
tory," both  in  the  original  and  in  the  translation.  My  way 
of  learning  a  language  is  always  to  begin  with  the  Bible, 
which  I  can  read  without  a  dictionary.  After  a  few  days 
passed  in  this  way,  I  am  master  of  all  the  common  particles, 
the  common  rules  of  syntax,  and  a  pretty  large  vocabulary. 
Then  I  fall  on  some  good  classical  work.  It  was  in  this  way 
that  I  learned  both  Spanish  and  Portuguese,  and  I  shall  try 
the  same  course  with  German. 

I  have  little  or  nothing  to  tell  you  about  myself.  My  life 
has  flown  away  here  with  strange  rapidity.  It  seems  but  yes- 
terday that  I  left  my  country ;  and  I  am  writing  to  beg  you 
to  hasten  preparations  for  my  return.  I  continue  to  enjoy 
perfect  health,  and  the  little  political  squalls  which  I  have  had 
to  weather  here  are  mere  capfuls  of  wind  to  a  man  who  has 
gone  through  the  great  hurricanes  of  English  faction. 

I  shall  send  another  copy  of  the  article  on  Bacon  by  another 
ship.  Yours  very  truly,  T.  B.  MACAULAY. 

Calcutta,  November  28th,  1836. 

DEAR  KAPIEE, — There  is  an  oversight  in  the  article  on  Ba- 
con which  I  shall  be  much  jobliged  to  you  to  correct.  I  have 
said  that  Bacon  did  not  deal  at  all  in  idle  rants  "  like  those  in 
which  Cicero  and  Mr.  Shandy  sought  consolation  for  the  loss 
of  Tullia  and  of  Bobby."  Nothing  can,  as  a  general  remark, 


398  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  vi. 

be  more  true,  but  it  escaped  my  recollection  that  two  or  three 
of  Mr.  Shandy's  consolatory  sentences  are  quoted  from  Bacon's 
"  Essays."  The  illustration,  therefore,  is  singularly  unfortu- 
nate. ^Pray  alter  it  thus :  "  in  which  Cicero  vainly  sought  con- 
solation for  the  loss  of  Tullia."  To  be  sure,  it  is  idle  to  cor- 
rect such  trifles  at  a  distance  of  fifteen  thousand  miles. 

Yours  ever,  T.  B.  MACAULAY. 

From  Lord  Jeffrey  to  Macvey  Napier,  Esq. 

May  2d,  1837. 

MY  DEAR  K., — What  mortal  could  ever  dream  of  cutting 
out  the  least  particle  of  this  precious  work,  to  make  it  fit  bet- 
ter into  your  jReview  f  It  would  be  worse  than  paring  down 
the  Pitt  diamond  to  fit  the  old  setting  of  a  dowager's  ring. 
Since  Bacon  himself,  I  do  not  know  that  there  has  been  any 
thing  so  fine.  The  first  five  or  six  pages  are  in  a  lower  tone, 
but  still  magnificent,  and  not  to  be  deprived  of  a  word. 

Still,  I  do  not  object  to  consider  whether  it  might  not  be 
best  to  serve  up  the  rich  repast  in  two  courses;  and  on  the 
whole  I  incline  to  that  partition.  One  hundred  and  twenty 
pages  might  cloy  even  epicures,  and  would  be  sure  to  surfeit 
the  vulgar ;  and  the  biography  and  philosophy  are  so  entire- 
ly distinct,  and  of  not  veiy  unequal  length,  that  the  division 
would  not  look  like  a  fracture.  FRANCIS  JEFFREY. 

In  the  end,  the  article  appeared  entire,  occupying  one  hun- 
dred and  four  pages  of  the  Iteview  ;  and  accompanied  by  an 
apology  for  its  length  in  the  shape  of  one  of  those  editorial 
appeals  to  "  the  intelligent  scholar,"  and  "  the  best  class  of  our 
readers,"  which  never  fail  of  success. 

The  letters  addressed  to  Zachary  Macaulay  are  half  filled 
with  anecdotes  of  the  nursery ;  pretty  enough,  but  such  as  only 
a  grandfather  could  be  expected  to  read.  In  other  respects, 
the  correspondence  is  chiefly  remarkable  for  the  affectionate 
ingenuity  with  which  the  son  selects  such  topics  as  would  in- 
terest the  father. 

Calcutta,  October  12th,  1836. 

MY  DEAR  FATHER, — We  were  extremely  gratified  by  receiv- 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  399 

ing,  a  few  days  ago,  a  letter  from  you  which,  on  the  whole, 
gave  a  good  account  of  your  health  and  spirits.  The  day 
after  to-morrow  is  the  first  anniversary  of  your  little  grand- 
daughter's birthday.  The  occasion  is  to  be  celebrated  with 
a  sort  of  droll  puppet-show,  much  in  fashion  among  the  na- 
tives ;  an  exhibition  much  in  the  style  of  Punch  in  England, 
but  more  dramatic  and  more  showy.  All  the  little  boys  and 
girls  from  the  houses  of  our  friends  are  invited,  and  the  party 
will,  I  have  no  doubt,  be  a  great  deal  more  amusing  than  the 
stupid  dinners  and  routs  with  which  the  grown-up  people  here 
kill  the  time. 

In  a  few  months — I  hope,  indeed,  in  a  few  weeks — we  shall 
send  up  the  "  Penal  Code  "  to  Government.  We  have  got  rid 
of  the  punishment  of  death,  except  in  the  case  of  aggravated 
treason  and  willful  murder.  We  shall  also  get  rid  indirectly 
of  every  thing  that  can  properly  be  called  slavery  in  India. 
There  will  remain  civil  claims  on  particular  people  for  par- 
ticular services,  which  claims  may  be  enforced  by  civil  action ; 
but  no  person  will  be  entitled,  on  the  plea  of  being  the  master 
of  another,  to  do  any  thing  to  that  other  which  it  would  be  an 
offense  to  do  to  a  free  man. 

Our  English  schools  are  flourishing  wonderfully.  We  find 
it  difficult — indeed,  in  some  places  impossible — to  provide  in- 
struction for  all  who  want  it.  At  the  single  town  of  Hooghly 
fourteen  hundred  boys  are  learning  English.  The  effect  of  this 
education  on  the  Hindoos  is  prodigious.  ~No  Hindoo  who  has 
received  an  English  education  ever  remains  sincerely  attached 
to  his  religion.  Some  continue  to  profess  it  as  a  matter  of 
policy ;  but  many  profess  themselves  pure  Deists,  and  some 
embrace  Christianity.  It  is  my  firm  belief  that,  if  our  plans 
of  education  are  followed  up,  there  will  not  be  a  single  idola- 
ter among  the  respectable  classes  in  Bengal  thirty  years  hence. 
And  this  will  be  effected  without  any  efforts  to  proselytize ; 
without  the  smallest  interference  with  religious  liberty ;  mere- 
ly by  the  natural  operation  of  knowledge  and  reflection.  I 
heartily  rejoice  in  the  prospect. 

I  have  been  a  sincere  mourner  for  Mill.  He  and  I  were  on 
the  best  terms,  and  his  services  at  the  India  House  were  never 


400  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  VL 

so  much  needed  as  at  this  time.  I  had  a  most  kind  letter 
from  him  a  few  weeks  before  I  heard  of  his  death.  He  has 
a  son  just  come  out,  to  whom  I  have  shown  such  little  atten- 
tions as  are  in  my  power. 

Within  half  a  year  after  the  time  when  you  read  this  we 
shall  be  making  arrangements  for  our  return.  The  feelings 
with  which  I  look  forward  to  that  return  I  can  not  express. 
Perhaps  I  should  be  wise  to  continue  here  longer,  in  order  to 
enjoy  during  a  greater  number  of  months  the  delusion — for  I 
know  that  it  will  prove  a  delusion — of  this  delightful  hope. 
I  feel  as  if  I  never  could  be  unhappy  in  my  own  country ;  as 
if  to  exist  on  English  ground  and  among  English  people,  see- 
ing the  old  familiar  sights  and  hearing  the  sound  of  my  moth- 
er tongue,  would  be  enough  for  me.  This  can  not  be ;  yet 
some  days  of  intense  happiness  I  shall  surely  have ;  and  one 
of  those  will  be  the  day  when  I  again  see  my  dear  father  and 
sisters.  Ever  yours  most  affectionately,  T.  B.  MACAULAY. 

Calcutta,  November  30th,  1836. 

DEAR  ELLIS, — How  the  months  run  away !  Here  is  another 
cold  season :  morning  fogs,  cloth  coats,  green  pease,  new  pota- 
toes, and  all  the  accompaniments  of  a  Bengal  winter.  As  to 
my  private  life,  it  has  glided  on,  since  I  wrote  to  you  last,  in 
the  most  peaceful  monotony.  If  it  were  not  for  the  books 
which  I  read,  and  for  the  bodily  and  mental  growth  of  my 
dear  little  niece,  I  should  have  no  mark  to  distinguish  one  part 
of  the  year  from  another.  Greek  and  Latin,  breakfast,  busi- 
ness, an  evening  walk  with  a  book,  a  drive  after  sunset,  din- 
ner, coffee,  my  bed — there  you  have  the  history  of  a  day.  My 
classical  studies  go  on  vigorously.  I  have  read  Demosthenes 
twice — I  need  not  say  with  what  delight  and  admiration.  I 
am  now  deep  in  Isocrates ;  and  from  him  I  shall  pass  to  Ly- 
sias.  I  have  finished  Diodorus  Siculus  at  last,  after  dawdling 
over  him  at  odd  times  ever  since  last  March.  He  is  a  stupid, 
credulous,  prosing  old  ass ;  yet  I  heartily  wish  that  we  had  a 
good  deal  more  of  him.  I  have  read  Arrian's  expedition  of 
Alexander,  together  with  Quintus  Curtius.  I  have  at  stray 
hours  read  Longus's  "  Romance  "  and  Xenophon's  "  Ephesia- 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  401 

ca,"  and  I  mean  to  go  through  Heliodorus  and  Achilles  Tatius 
in  the  same  way.  Longus  is  prodigiously  absurd ;  but  there 
is  often  an  exquisite  prettiness  in  the  style.  Xenophon's  nov- 
el* is  the  basest  thing  to  be  found  in  Greek.  It  was  discov- 
ered at  Florence,  little  more  than  a  hundred  years  ago,  by  an 
English  envoy.  Nothing  so  detestable  ever  came  from  the 
Minerva  Press.  I  have  read  Theocritus  again,  and  like  him 
better  than  ever. 

As  to  Latin,  I  made  a  heroic  attempt  on  Pliny's  "  Natural 
History ;"  but  I  stuck  after  getting  through  about  a  quarter 
of  it.  I  have  read  Ammianus  Marcellinus,  the  worst-written 
book  in  ancient  Latin.  The  style  would  disgrace  a  monk  of 
the  tenth  century ;  but  Marcellinus  has  many  of  the  substan- 
tial qualities  of  a  good  historian.  I  have  gone  through  the 
Augustan  history,  and  much  other  trash  relating  to  the  lower 
empire ;  curious  as  illustrating  the  state  of  society,  but  utter- 
ly worthless  as  composition.  I  have  read  Statius  again,  and 
thought  him  as  bad  as  ever.  I  really  found  only  two  lines 
worthy  of  a  great  poet  in  all  the  "  Thebais."  They  are  these 
(what  do  you  think  of  my  taste  ?) : 

Clamorem,  bello  qualis  supremus  apertis 
Urbibus,  aut  pelago  jam  descendente  carimi. 

I  am  now  busy  with  Quintilian  and  Lucan,  both  excellent 
writers.  The  dream  of  Pompey,  in  the  seventh  book  of  the 
"  Pharsalia,"  is  a  very  noble  piece  of  writing.  I  hardly  know 
an  instance  in  poetry  of  so  great  an  effect  produced  by  means 
so  simple.  There  is  something  irresistibly  pathetic  in  the 

lines : 

Qualis  erat  poptili  facies,  clamorque  faventuin 
Olim  cum  juvenis — 


*  Xenophon  the  Ephesian  lived  in  the  third  or  fourth  century  of  the 
Christian  era.  At  the  end  of  his  work  Macaulay  has  written,  "  A  most 
stupid,  worthless  performance,  below  the  lowest  trash  of  an  English  circu- 
lating library."  Achilles  Tatius  he  disposes  of  with  the  words  "  Detesta- 
ble trash ;"  and  the  "^Ethiopics  "  of  Heliodorus,  which  he  appears  to  have 
finished  on  Easter-day,  1837,  he  pronounces  "  the  best  of  the  Greek  ro- 
mances, which  is  not  saying  much  for  it." 

YOL.  I.— 26 


402  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  vi. 

and  something  unspeakably  solemn  in  the  sudden  turn  which 
follows : 

Crastina  dira  quies — 

There  are  two  passages  in  Lucan  which  surpass  in  eloquence 
any  thing  that  I  know  in  the  Latin  language.  One  is  the 
enumeration  of  Pompey's  exploits  : 

Quod  si  tarn  sacro  dignaris  nomine  saxum — 
The  other  is  the  character  which  Cato  gives  of  Pompey, 
Civis  obit,  inquit — 

a  pure  gem  of  rhetoric,  without  one  flaw,  and,  in  my  opinion, 
not  very  far  from  historical  truth.*  When  I  consider  that 
Lucan  died  at  twenty-six,  I  can  not  help  ranking  him  among 
the  most  extraordinary  men  that  ever  lived. 

I  am  glad  that  you  have  so  much  business,  and  sorry  that 
you  have  so  little  leisure.  In  a  few  years  you  will  be  a  baron 
of  the  exchequer,  and  then  we  shall  have  ample  time  to  talk 


*  The  following  remarks  occur  at  the  end  of  Macaulay's  copy  of  the 
"  Pharsalia :" 

"August  30th,  1835. 

"  When  Lucan's  age  is  considered,  it  is  impossible  not  to  allow  that  the 
poem  is  a  very  extraordinary  one :  more  extraordinary,  perhaps,  than  if  it 
had  been  of  a  higher  kind  ;  for  it  is  more  common  for  the  imagination  to 
be  in  full  vigor  at  an  early  time  of  life  than  for  a  young  man  to  obtain  a 
complete  mastery  of  political  and  philosophical  rhetoric.  I  know  no  dec- 
lamation in  the  world,  not  even  Cicero's  best,  which  equals  some  passages 
in  the  '  Pharsalia.'  As  to  what  were  meant  for  bold  poetical  flights — the 
sea-fight  at  Marseilles,  the  Centurion  who  is  covered  with  wounds,  the 
snakes  in  the  Libyan  desert — it  is  all  as  detestable  as  Gibber's  '  Birthday 
Odes.'  The  furious  partiality  of  Lucan  take,s  away  much  of  the  pleasure 
which  his  talents  would  otherwise  afford.  A  poet  who  is,  as  has  often 
been  said,  less  a  poet  than  a  historian,  should  to  a  certain  degree  conform 
to  the  laws  of  history.  The  manner  in  which  he  represents  the  two  par- 
ties is  not  to  be  reconciled  with  the  laws  even  of  fiction.  The  senators  are 
demi-gods  ;  Pompey,  a  pure  lover  of  his  country ;  Cato,  the  abstract  idea  of 
virtue ;  while  Caesar,  the  finest  gentleman,  the  most  humane  conqueror, 
and  the  most  popular  politician  that  Rome  ever  produced,  is  a  blood-thirsty 
ogre.  If  Lucan  had  lived,  he  would  probably  have  improved  greatly. 
Again,  December  9th,  1836." 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  403 

over  our  favorite  classics.  Then  I  will  show  you  a  most  su- 
perb emendation  of  Bentley's  in  Ampelius,  and  I  will  give 
you  unanswerable  reasons  for  pronouncing  that  Gibbon  was 
mistaken  in  supposing  that  Quintus  Curtius  wrote  under  Gor- 
dian. 

Remember  me  most  kindly  to  Mrs.  Ellis.  I  hope  that  I 
shall  find  Frank  writing  as  good  Alcaics  as  his  father. 

Ever  yours  affectionately,  T.  B.  MACAULAY. 

Calcutta,  March  8th,  1837. 

DEAR  ELLIS, — I  am  at  present  very  much  worked,  and  have 
been  so  for  a  long  time  past.  Cameron,  after  being  laid  up 
for  some  months,  sailed  at  Christmas  for  the  Cape,  where  I 
hope  his  health  will  be  repaired ;  for  this  country  can  very  ill 
spare  him.  However,  we  have  almost  brought  our  great  work 
to  a  conclusion.  In  about  a  month  we  shall  lay  before  the 
Government  a  complete  penal  code  for  a  hundred  millions 
of  people,  with  a  commentary  explaining,  and  defending,  the 
provisions  of  the  text.  Whether  it  is  well  or  ill  done,  Heaven 
knows.  I  only  know  that  it  seems  to  me  to  be  very  ill  done 
when  I  look  at  it  by  itself ;  and  well  done  when  I  compare  it 
with  "  Livingstone's  Code,"  with  the  "  French  Code,"  or  with 
the  English  statutes  which  have  been  passed  for  the  purpose 
of  consolidating  and  amending  the  "Criminal  Law."  In 
health  I  am  as  well  as  ever  I  was  in  my  life.  Time  glides 
fast.  One  day  is  so  like  another  that,  but  for  a  habit  which  I 
acquired  soon  after  I  reached  India  of  penciling  in  my  books 
the  date  of  my  reading  them,  I  should  have  hardly  any  way 
of  estimating  the  lapse  of  time.  If  I  want  to  know  when 
an  event  took  place,  I  call  to  mind  which  of  Calderon's  plays, 
or  of  Plutarch's  "  Lives,"  I  was  reading  on  that  day.  I  turn 
to  the  book,  find  the  date,  and  am  generally  astonished  to 
see  that  what  seems  removed  from  me  by  only  two  or  three 
months  really  happened  nearly  a  year  ago. 

I  intend  to  learn  German  on  my  voyage  home,  and  I  have 
indented  largely  (to  use  our  Indian  official  term)  for  the  req- 
uisite books.  People  tell  me  that  it  is  a  hard  language ;  but  I 
can  not  easily  believe  that  there  is  a  language  which  I  can  not 


404  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [CHAP.  vi. 

master  in  four  months,  by  working  ten  hours  a  day.  I  prom- 
ise myself  very  great  delight  and  information  from  German 
literature  ;  and,  over  and  above,  I  feel  a  sort  of  presentiment, 
a  kind  of  admonition  of  the  Deity,  which  assures  me  that  the 
final  cause  of  my  existence  —  the  end  for  which  I  was  sent  into 
this  vale  of  tears  —  was  to  make  game  of  certain  Germans. 
The  first  thing  to  be  done  in  obedience  to  this  heavenly  call 
is  to  learn  German;  and  then  I  may  perhaps  try,  as  Milton 
says, 

Frangere  Saxonicas  Britonum  sub  Marte  phalanges. 
Ever  yours  affectionately,  T.  B.  MACAULAY. 

The  years  which  Macaulay  spent  in  India  formed  a  transi- 
tion period  between  the  time  when  he  kept  no  journal  at  all 
and  the  time  when  the  daily  portion  of  his  journal  was  com- 
pleted as  regularly  as  the  daily  portion  of  his  "  History."  Be- 
tween 1834  and  1838,  he  contented  himself  with  jotting  down 
any  circumstance  that  struck  his  fancy  in  the  book  which  he 
happened  to  have  in  hand.  The  records  of  his  Calcutta  life, 
written  in  half  a  dozen  different  languages,  are  scattered 
throughout  the  whole  range  of  classical  literature  from  Hesiod 
to  Macrobius.  At  the  end  of  the  seventy  -  ninth  Epistle  of 
Seneca  we  read  :  "April  14th,  1836.  Hodie  prsemia  distribui 
rote  lv  Tty  juovorety  SavffK/otrtKy  vfavtoxofc."4* 

On  the  last  page  of  the  "Birds"  of  Aristophanes:  "Jan. 
16th,  1836.  ot  TTjOttr/SfTc  o«  irapa  TOV  fiaatXlwt;  TUV 


On  the  first  page  of  Theocritus  :  "  March  20th,  1835.  Lord 
W.  Bentinck  sailed  this  morning." 

On  the  last  page  of  the  "  De  Amicitia  :"  "  March  5th,  1836. 
Yesterday  Lord  Auckland  arrived  at  Government  House,  and 
was  sworn  in." 

Beneath  an  idyl  of  Moschus,  of  all  places  in  the  world,  Mac- 

*  "  To-day  I  distributed  the  prizes  to  the  students  of  the  Sanscrit  Col- 
lege." 

t  "  The  embassadors  from  the  King  of  Nepaul  entered  Calcutta  yester- 
day." It  may  be  observed  that  Macaulay  wrote  Greek  with  or  without 
accents,  according  to  the  humor  or  hurry  of  the  moment. 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  405 

aulay  notes  the  fact  of  Peel  being  First  Lord  of  the  Treasury ; 
and  he  finds  space,  between  two  quotations  in  Athenaeus,  to 
commemorate  a  ministerial  majority  of  29  on  the  second  read- 
ing of  the  Irish  Church  Bill. 

A  somewhat  nearer  approach  to  a  formal  diary  may  be 
found  in  his  Catullus,  which  contains  a  catalogue  of  the  En- 
glish books  that  he  read  in  the  cold  season  of  1835-'36 ;  as,  for 
instance,  Gibbon's  "Answer  to  Davis,"  November  6th  and 
7th ;  Gibbon  on  Virgil's  VI.  ^Eneid,  November  7th.;  Whately's 
"Logic,"  November  15th;  Thirlwall's  "Greece,"  November 
22d ;  Edinburgh  Jteview,  November  29th.  And  all  this  was 
in  addition  to  his  Greek  and  Latin  studies,  to  his  official  work, 
to  the  French  that  he  read  with  his  sister,  and  the  unrecorded 
novels  that  he  read  to  himself ;  which  last  would  alone  have 
afforded  occupation  for  two  ordinary  men,  unless  this  month 
of  November  was  different  from  every  other  month  of  his  ex- 
istence since  the  day  that  he  left  Mr.  Preston's  school-room. 
There  is  something  refreshing,  amidst  the  long  list  of  graver 
treatises,  to  light  upon  a  periodical  entry  of  "  YIiKviKtva"  the 
immortal  work  of  a  classic  who  has  had  more  readers  in  a  sin- 
gle year  than  Statins  and  Seneca  in  all  their  eighteen  centu- 
ries together.  Macaulay  turned  over  with  indifference,  and 
something  of  distaste,  the  earlier  chapters  of  that  modern 
"Odyssey."  The  first  touch  which  came  home  to  him  was 
Jingle's  "  Handsome  Englishman  !"  In  that  phrase  he  recog- 
nized a  master ;  and,  by  the  time  that  he  landed  in  England, 
he  knew  his  "  Pickwick  "  almost  as  intimately  as  his  "  Grandi- 
son." 

Calcutta,  June  15th,  1837. 

DEAR  NAPIEK, — Your  letter  about  my  review  of  Mackin- 
tosh miscarried,  vexatiously  enough.  I  should  have  been  glad 
to  know  what  was  thought  of  my  performance  among  friends 
and  foes,  for  here  we  have  no  information  on  such  subjects. 
The  literary  correspondents  of  the  Calcutta  newspapers  seem 
to  be  penny-a-line  men  whose  whole  stock  of  literature  comes 
from  the  conversations  in  the  Green  Room. 

My  long  article  on  Bacon  has,  no  doubt,  been  in  your  hands 
some  time.  I  never,  to  the  best  of  my  recollection,  proposed 


406  LIFE  AND  LETTEES  OF  [CHAP.VI. 

to  review  Hannah  More's  "life"  or  "Works."  If  I  did,  it 
must  have  been  in  jest.  She  was  exactly  the  very  last  person 
in  the  world  about  whom  I  should  choose  to  write  a  critique. 
She  was  a  very  kind  friend  to  me  from  childhood.  Her  no- 
tice first  called  out  my  literary  tastes.  Her  presents  laid  the 
foundation  of  my  library.  She  was  to  me  what  Ninon  was 
to  Voltaire — begging  her  pardon  for  comparing  her  to  a  bad 
woman,  and  yours  for  comparing  myself  to  a  great  man.  She 
really  was  a  second  mother  to  me.  I  have  a  real  affection 
for  her  memory.  I  therefore  could  not  possibly  write  about 
her  unless  I  wrote  in  her  praise ;  and  all  the  praise  which  I 
could  give  to  her  writings,  even  after  straining  my  conscience 
in  her  favor,  would  be  far  indeed  from  satisfying  any  of  her 
admirers. 

I  will  try  my  hand  on  Temple,  and  on  Lord  Olive. 
Shaftesbury  I  shall  let  alone.  Indeed,  his  political  life  is  so 
much  connected  with  Temple's  that,  without  endless  repeti- 
tion, it  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  furnish  a  separate  ar- 
ticle on  each.  Temple's  "  Life  and  "Works ;"  the  part  which 
he  took  in  the  controversy  about  the  ancients  and  moderns ; 
the  Oxford  confederacy  against  Bentley ;  and  the  memorable 
victory  which  Bentley  obtained,  will  be  good  subjects.  I  am 
in  training  for  this  part  of  the  subject,  as  I  have  twice  read 
through  the  Phalaris  controversy  since  I  arrived  in  India. 

I  have  been  almost  incessantly  engaged  in  public  business 
since  I  sent  off  the  paper  on  Bacon;  but  I  expect  to  have 
comparative  leisure  during  the  short  remainder  of  my  stay 
here.  The  "  Penal  Code  of  India  "  is  finished,  and  is  in  the 
press.  The  illness  of  two  of  my  colleagues  threw  the  work 
almost  entirely  on  me.  It  is  done,  however ;  and  I  am  not 
likely  to  be  called  upon  for  vigorous  exertion  during  the  rest 
of  my  Indian  career.  Yours  ever,  T.  B.  MACAULAY. 

If  you  should  have  assigned  Temple  or  Clive  to  any  body 
else,  pray  do  not  be  uneasy  on  that  account.  The  pleasure  of 
writing  pays  itself. 

Calcutta,  December  18th,  1837. 

DEAR  ELLIS, — My  last  letter  was  on  a  deeply  melancholy 
subject — the  death  of  our  poor  friend  Malkin.  I  have  felt 


1834-'38.]  LORD  MACAULAY.  407 

very  much  for  his  widow.  The  intensity  of  her  affliction,  and 
the  fortitude  and  good  feeling  which  she  showed  as  soon  as  the 
first  agony  was  over,  have  interested  me  greatly  in  her.  Six 
or  seven  of  Malkin's  most  intimate  friends  here  have  joined 
with  Ryan  and  me  in  subscribing  to  put  up  a  plain  marble 
tablet  in  the  cathedral,  for  which  I  have  written  an  inscrip- 
tion.* 

My  departure  is  now  near  at  hand.  This  is  the  last  letter 
which  I  shall  write  to  you  from  India.  Our  passage  is  taken 
in  the  Lord  Jlimgerford,  the  most  celebrated  of  the  huge 
floating  hotels  which  run  between  London  and  Calcutta.  She 
is  more  renowned  for  the  comfort  and  luxury  of  her  internal 
arrangements  than  for  her  speed.  As  we  are  to  stop  at  the 
Cape  for  a  short  time,  I  hardly  expect  to  be  with  you  till  the 
end  of  May  or  the  beginning  of  June.  I  intend  to  make  my- 
self a  good  German  scholar  by  the  time  of  my  arrival  in  En- 
gland. I  have  already,  at  leisure  moments,  broken  the  ice. 
I  have  read  about  half  of  the  New  Testament  in  Luther's 
translation ;  and  am  now  getting  rapidly,  for  a  beginner, 
through  Schiller's  "  History  of  the  Thirty  Years'  War."  My 
German  library  consists  of  all  Goethe's  works,  all  Schiller's 
works,  Mullens  "  History  of  Switzerland,"  some  of  Tieck, 
some  of  Lessing,  and  other  works  of  less  fame.  I  hope  to  dis- 
patch them  all  on  my  way  home.  I  like  Schiller's  style  ex- 
ceedingly. His  history  contains  a  great  deal  of  very  just  and 
deep  thought,  conveyed  in  language  so  popular  and  agreeable 
that  dunces  would  think  him  superficial. 

I  lately  took  it  into  my  head  to  obtain  some  knowledge  of 
the  Fathers,  and  I  read  therefore  a  good  deal  of  Athanasius, 
which  by  no  means  raised  him  in  my  opinion.  I  procured 
the  magnificent  edition  of  Chrysostom  by  Montfaucon  from 
a  public  library  here,  and  turned  over  the  eleven  huge  folios, 
reading  wherever  the  subject  was  of  peculiar  interest.  As  to 
reading  him  through,  the  thing  is  impossible.  These  volumes 
contain  matter  at  least  equal  to  the  whole  extant  literature  of 
the  best  tunes  of  Greece,  from  Homer  to  Aristotle  inclusive. 

*  This  inscription  appears  in  Lord  Macaulay's  "  Miscellaneous  Works." 


408  LIFE  AND  LETTERS,  ETC.  [CHAP.  vi. 

There  are  certainly  some  very  brilliant  passages  in  his  homi- 
lies. It  seems  curious  that,  though  the  Greek  literature  be- 
gan to  flourish  so  much  earlier  than  the  Latin,  it  continued 
to  flourish  so  much  later.  Indeed,  if  you  except  the  century 
which  elapsed  between  Cicero's  first  public  appearance  and 
Livy's  death,  I  am  not  sure  that  there  was  any  time  at  which 
Greece  had  not  writers  equal,  or  superior,  to  their  Roman  con- 
temporaries. I  am  sure  that  no  Latin  writer  of  the  age  of 
Lucian  is  to  be  named  with  Lucian ;  that  no  Latin  writer  of 
the  age  of  Longinus  is  to  be  named  with  Longinus ;  that  no 
Latin  prose  of  the  age  of  Chrysostom  can  be  named  with 
Chrysostom's  compositions.  I  have  read  Augustine's  "  Con- 
fessions." The  book  is  not  without  interest ;  but  he  expresses 
himself  in  the  style  of  a  field-preacher. 

Our  "Penal  Code"  is  to  be  published  next  week.  It  has 
cost  me  very  intense  labor ;  and,  whatever  its  faults  may  be, 
it  is  certainly  not  a  slovenly  performance.  Whether  the  work 
proves  useful  to  India  or  not,  it  has  been  of  great  use,  I  feel 
and  know,  to  my  own  mind.  Ever  yours  affectionately, 

T.  B.  MACAULAY. 


APPENDIX. 


A  FEW  extracts  from  the  notes  penciled  in  Macaulay's  Greek  and 
Latin  books  may  interest  any  one  who  is  wise  enough  to  have  kept 
up  his  classics,  or  young  enough  for  it  to  be  still  his  happy  duty  to 
read  them.  The  number  of  the  dates  scribbled  at  the  conclusion  of 
each  volume,  and  their  proximity  in  point  of  time,  are  astonishing 
when  we  reflect  that  every  such  memorandum  implies  a  separate  pe- 
rusal. 

"  This  day  I  finished  Thucydides,  after  reading  him  with  inexpressi- 
ble interest  and  admiration.  He  is  the  greatest  historian  that  ever 
lived.— February  21th,  1835." 

"  I  am  still  of  the  same  mind. — May  30th,  1836." 

At  the  end  of  Xenophon's  "Anabasis  "  may  be  read  the  words : 
"Decidedly  his  best  work. — December  17<A,  1835." 
"Most  certainly. — February  24th,  1837." 

"  One  of  the  very  first  works  that  antiquity  has  left  us.  Perfect  in 
its  kind.— October  9th,  1837." 

"  I  read  Plautus  four  times  at  Calcutta. 

"The  first,  in  November  and  December,  1834. 

"The  second,  in  January  and  the  beginning  of  February,  1835. 

"The  third,  on  the  Sundays  from  the  24th  of  May  to  the  23d  of 
August,  1835. 

"The  fourth,  on  the  Sundays  beginning  from  the  1st  of1  January, 
1837. 

"I  have  since  read  him  in  the  Isle  of  Wight  (1850),  and  in  the 
South  of  France  (1858)." 


410  APPENDIX. 

"  Finished  the  second  reading  of  Lucretius  this  day,  March  24th, 
1835.  It  is  a  great  pity  that  the  poem  is  in  an  unfinished  state.  The 
philosophy  is  for  the  most  part  utterly  worthless  ;  but  in  energy,  per- 
spicuity, variety  of  illustration,  knowledge  of  life  and  manners,  talent 
for  description,  sense  of  the  beauty  of  the  external  world,  and  eleva- 
tion and  dignity  of  moral  feeling,  he  had  hardly  ever  an  equal." 

"  Finished  Catullus  August  3d,  1835.  An  admirable  poet.  No  Lat- 
in writer  is  so  Greek.  The  simplicity,  the  pathos,  the  perfect  grace, 
which  I  find  in  the  great  Athenian  models  are  all  in  Catullus,  and  in 
him  alone  of  the  Romans." 

To  the  "Thebai's"  of  Statius  are  simply  appended  the  dates  "Oc- 
tober 26th,  1835."  "  October  31st,  1 836."  The  expressions  "  Stuff !" 
and  "  Trash !"  occur  frequently  enough  throughout  the  dreary  pages 
of  the  poem ;  while  evidence  of  the  attention  with  which  those  pages 
were  studied  is  afforded  by  such  observations  as  "  Gray  has  translated 
this  passage;"  "Racine  took  a  hint  here;"  and  "Nobly  imitated — 
indeed,  far  surpassed — by  Chaucer." 

"  Finished  Silius  Italicus ;  for  which  Heaven  be  praised !  Decem- 
ber 24th,  1835.  Pope  must  have  read  him  before  me.  In  the  '  Tem- 
ple of  Fame,'  and  the  '  Essay  on  Criticism,'  are  some  touches  plainly 
suggested  by  Silius." 

In  the  last  page  of  Velleius  Paterculus  come  the  following  com- 
ments: "Vile  flatterer!  Yet,  after  all,  he  could  hardly  help  it.  But 
how  the  strong,  acute,  cynical  mind  of  Tiberius  must  have  been  re- 
volted by  adulation,  the  absence  of  which  he  would  probably  have 
punished !  Velleius  Paterculus  seems  to  me  a  remarkably  good  epit- 
omist.  I  hardly  know  any  historical  work  of  which  the  scale  is  so 
small,  and  the  subject  so  extensive.  The  Bishop  of  London  admires 
his  style.  I  do  not.  There  are  sentences  worthy  of  Tacitus;  but 
there  is  an  immense  quantity  of  rant,  and  far  too  much  ejaculation 
and  interrogation  for  oratory,  let  alone  history. — June  6th,  1835; 
again,  May  14th,  1836." 

"  I  think  Sallust  inferior  to  both  Livy  and  Tacitus  in  the  talents  of 
an  historian.  There  is  a  lecturing,  declaiming  tone  about  him  which 
would  suit  a  teacher  of  rhetoric  better  than  a  statesman  engaged  in 


APPENDIX. 

recording  great  events.  Still,  he  is  a  good  writer ;  and  the  view  which 
he  here  gives  of  the  state  of  parties  at  Rome,  and  the  frightful  de- 
moralization of  the  aristocracy,  is  full  of  interest. — June  IQth,  1835; 
May  6th,  1837." 

"  I  do  not  think  that  there  is  better  evidence  of  the  genuineness 
of  any  book  in  the  world  than  of  the  first  seven  books  of  Caesar's 
'Commentaries.'  To  doubt  on  that  subject  is  the  mere  rage  of 
skepticism." 

After  Cassar's  "  De  Bello  Civili :"  "  He  is  an  admirable  writer,  worth 
ten  of  Sallust.  His  manner  is  the  perfection  of  good  sense  and  good 
taste.  He  rises  on  me,  also,  as  a  man.  He  was  on  the  right  side,  as 
far  as  in  such  a  miserable  government  there  could  be  a  right  side. 
He  used  his  victory  with  glorious  humanity.  Pompey,  whether  he 
inclined  to  it  or  not,  must  have  established  a  reign  of  terror  to  gratify 
the  execrable  aristocracy  whose  tool  he  had  stooped  to  be." 

To  the  "  De  Bello  Alexandrino :"  "  This  is  not  a  bad  history. 
Hirtius  is  a  very  respectable  writer.  The  Alexandrian  affair  is  a  curi- 
ous episode  in  Caesar's  life.  No  doubt  the  influence  of  Cleopatra  was 
the  real  cause  of  his  strange  conduct.  He  was  not  a  man  to  play 
Charles  XII.  at  Bender,  except  when  under  the  tyranny  of  some 
strong  passion.  The  ability  with  which  he  got  out  of  scrapes  is  some 
set-off  against  the  rashness  with  which  he  got  into  them." 

To  the  "  De  Bello  Hispaniensi :"  "  This  book  must  have  been  writ- 
ten by  some  sturdy  old  centurion,  who  fought  better  than  he  com- 
posed." 

The  odds  and  ends  of  Cesar's  conversation,  gathered  far  and  wide 
from  classical  literature  into  what  is  perhaps  the  most  tantalizing 
biographical  fragment  in  the  world,  are  characterized  by  Macaulay  as 
"  Disjecta  membra  gigantis." 

The  three  volumes  of  Macaulay's  Ovid  are  enlivened,  throughout, 
with  pencil-notes  charming  in  their  vivacity  and  versatility.  At  the 
conclusion  of  the  fifteenth  and  last  book  he  writes :  "  There  are  some 
very  fine  things  in  this  poem ;  and  in  ingenuity,  and  the  art  of  doing 
difficult  things  in  expression  and  versification  as  if  they  were  the  easi- 


412  APPENDIX. 

est  in  the  world,  Ovid  is  quite  incomparable.  But,  on  the  whole,  I 
am  much  disappointed.  I  like  the  romantic  poets  of  Italy  far  better ; 
not  only  Ariosto,  but  Boiardo,  and  even  Forteguerri.  The  second 
book  of  the  '  Metamorphoses '  is  by  far  the  best.  Next  to  that  comes 
the  first  half  of  the  thirteenth. 

"Finished  at  Calcutta  April  28th,  1835." 

"I  like  it  better  this  second  time  of  reading. — January  14th,  1837." 

He  was  evidently  surfeited  by  the  "  Heroides,"  and  pleased  by  the 
"Amores ;"  though  he  read  them  both  twice  through  with  the  strictest 
impartiality.  Of  the  "Ars  Amatoria  "  he  says :  "  Ovid's  best.  The 
subject  did  not  require  the  power,  which  he  did  not  possess,  of  moving 
the  passions.  The  love,  which  he  has  reduced  to  a  system,  was  little 
more  than  the  mere  sexual  appetite,  heightened  by  the  art  of  dress, 
manner,  and  conversation.  This  was  an  excellent  subject  for  a  man 
so  witty  and  so  heartless." 

The  "  Fasti "  were  almost  too  much  for  him.  "  June  30th,  1835. — 
It  is  odd  that  I  should  finish  the  '  Fasti '  on  the  very  day  with  which 
the  '  Fasti '  terminate.  I  am  cloyed  with  Ovid.  Yet  I  can  not  but 
admire  him." 

"Finished  the  'Fasti'  again.— February  2Gth,  1837." 

After  the  "Tristia:"  "A  very  melancholy  set  of  poems.  They 
make  me  very  sad,  and  the  more  so  because  I  am  myself  an  exile, 
though  in  far  happier  circumstances,  externally,  than  those  of  Ovid. 
It  is  impossible  not  to  feel  contempt,  mingled  with  a  sort  of  pitying 
kindness,  for  a  man  so  clever,  so  accomplished,  so  weak-spirited  and 
timid,  placed,  unjustly  as  it  should  seem,  in  so  painful  a  situation.  It 
is  curious  that  the  three  most  celebrated  Roman  writers  who  were 
banished,  and  whose  compositions  written  in  exile  have  come  down  to 
us — Cicero,  Seneca,  and  Ovid — have  all  shown  an  impatience  and  pu- 
sillanimity which  lower  their  characters ;"  and  which,  he  might  have 
added,  are  strangely  at  variance  with  the  proverbial  manliness  and 
constancy  of  the  Roman  nature. 

At  the  end  of  the  last  volume :  "  I  have  now  gone  through  the 
whole  of  Ovid's  works,  and  heartily  tired  I  am  of  him  and  them. 
Yet  he  is  a  wonderfully  clever  man.  But  he  has  two  insupportable 
faults.  The  one  is  that  he  will  always  be  clever;  the  other  that  he 


APPENDIX.  413 

never  knows  when  to  have  done.  He  is  rather  a  rhetorician  than  a 
poet.  There  is  little  feeling  in  his  poems ;  even  in  those  which  were 
written  during  his  exile.  The  pathetic  effect  of  his  supplications  and 
lamentations  is  injured  by  the  ingenious  turns  of  expression,  and  by 
the  learned  allusions,  with  which  he  sets  off  his  sorrow." 

"  He  seems  to  have  been  a  very  good  fellow :  rather  too  fond  of 
women ;  a  flatterer  and  a  coward ;  but  kind  and  generous ;  and  free 
from  envy,  though  a  man  of  letters,  and  though  sufficiently  vain  of  his 
literary  performances.  The  'Art  of  Love,'  which  ruined  poor  Ovid,  is, 
in  my  opinion,  decidedly  his  best  work." 

"  I  finished  Livy,  after  reading  him  with  the  greatest  delight,  inter- 
est, and  admiration,  May  31st,  1835  ;  again,  April  29th,  1837." 

At  the  end  of  Livy's  twenty-seventh  book  there  appear  the  follow- 
ing remarks ;  which,  in  a  letter  to  Mr.  Ellis,  Macaulay  entitles  "  Histor- 
ic Doubts  touching  the  Battle  of  the  Metaurus :"  "  I  suspect  that  the 
whole  narrative  is  too  highly  colored,  and  that  far  too  large  a  share  of 
the  praise  is  allotted  to  Nero.  Who  was  Nero?  What  did  he  ever 
do  before  or  after  this  great  achievement?  His  conduct  in  Spain  had 
been  that  of  an  incapable  driveler,  and  we  hear  of  nothing  to  set  off 
against  that  conduct  till  he  was  made  consul.  And,  after  his  first  con- 
sulship, why  was  he  not  re-elected  ?  All  ordinary  rules  about  succes- 
sion to  offices  were  suspended  while  Hannibal  was  in  Italy.  Fabius, 
Fulvius,  Marcellus,  were  elected  consuls  over  and  over.  The  youth  of 
Scipio  did  not  keep  him  from  holding  the  highest  commands.  Why 
was  Nero,  who,  if  Livy  can  be  trusted,  was  a  far  abler  man  than  any 
general  whom  Rome  employed  in  that  war — who  outgeneraled  Has- 
drubal,  who  saved  the  republic  from  the  most  imminent  danger — never 
re-employed  against  the  Carthaginians  ? 

"And  then,  how  strange  is  the  silence  of  the  Latin  writers  anterior 
to  the  Augustan  age !  There  does  not  exist,  as  far  as  I  recollect,  a  sin- 
gle allusion  to  Nero  in  all  Cicero's  works.  But,  when  we  come  to  the 
time  at  which  Tiberius  was  rising  to  the  first  importance  in  the  State, 
we  find  Nero  represented  as  the  most  illustrious  captain  of  his  age. 
'  The  earliest  panegyric  on  him  that  I  know  is  in  Horace's  fine  ode, 
'Qualem  Ministrum.'  That  ode  was  written  to  the  praise  and  glory 
of  Tiberius  and  Drasus — both  Neros.  Livy  wrote  when  Tiberius  was 
partner  with  Augustus  in  the  Empire ;  Velleius  Paterculus,  when  Ti- 


APPENDIX. 

berius  was  sovereign.  They  seem  to  me  to  have  looked  back  into  his- 
tory for  the  purpose  of  finding  some  topic  flattering  to  the  house  of 
Nero ;  and  they  found  a  victory — certainly  a  considerable  victory — 
gained  in  the  consulship  of  a  Nero,  and  by  an  army,  part  of  which  he 
commanded.  Accordingly,  they  ascribed  to  him  all  the  glory  of  the 
success.  They  represented  him  as  having  contrived  the  whole  plan ; 
as  having  executed  it  on  his  own  responsibility ;  as  having  completely 
outwitted  both  the  Carthaginian  generals.  Yet,  after  all,  the  Senate 
would  not  let  him  enter  Rome  in  triumph,  but  gave  all  the  honor  of 
the  victory  to  his  colleague  Livius;  and  I  can  not  find  in  Polybius 
any  compliment  whatsoever  to  Nero's  generalship  on  this  occasion. 

"  I  dare  say  that,  if  the  truth  were  known,  it  would  be  something  of 
this  sort.  The  Senate  ordered  Nero  to  march,  and  to  effect  a  junction 
with  Livius.  The  direction  of  the  operations  siibsequent  to  that  junc- 
tion probably  lay  with  Livius ;  as  the  province  was  especially  his,  and 
as  he  was  general  of  by  far  the  larger  force.  In  the  action,  Livy  him- 
self tells  us  that  Livius  was  opposed  to  Hasdrubal,  which  was  doubt- 
less the  most  important  post.  The  universal  impression  at  the  time 
was  that  the  glory  of  the  day  belonged  to  Livius.  He  alone  triumphed 
for  the  victory ;  and  no  Roman  writer,  for  many  generations,  ranked 
Nero  with  Fabius  or  Marcellus.  But,  when  the  house  of  Nero  ac- 
quired supreme  power,  men  of  letters  employed  all  their  talents  in  ex- 
tolling the  only  Nero  of  whom  it  was  possible  to  make  a  great  man ; 
and  they  have  described  his  conduct  in  such  a  way  that  he  appears  to 
have  been  a  greater  man  than  Scipio,  and  fully  a  match  for  Hannibal." 

At  the  end  of  each  drama  of  the  Greek  tragedians  Macaulay  wrote 
with  a  pencil  (and,  unfortunately,  not  a  very  good  pencil)  a  little  crit- 
ical essay,  from  three  to  twenty  lines  in  length. 

"The  first  part  of  the  Ajax  is  prodigiously  fine.  I  do  not  know 
that  the  agonies  of  wounded  honor  have  ever  been  so  sublimely  rep- 
resented. Basil,  in  one  of  Miss  Baillie's  best  plays,  is  a  faint  shadow 
of  this  grand  creation  of  Sophocles.  But  the  interest  of  the  piece 
dies  with  Ajax.  In  the  debates  which  follow,  Sophocles  does  not  suc- 
ceed as  well  as  Euripides  would  have  done.  The  odes,  too,  are  not 
very  good." 

"  I  have  been  less  pleased  with  this  perusal  of  the  '  (Edipus  Tyran- 
nus '  than  I  was  when  I  read  it  in  January ;  perhaps  because  I  then 


APPENDIX.  415 

read  it  all  at  one  sitting.  The  construction  seems  to  me  less  perfect 
than  I  formerly  thought  it.  But  nothing  can  exceed  the  skill  with 
which  the  discovery  is  managed.  The  agony  of  (Edipus  is  so  unut- 
terably grand  ;  and  the  tender  sorrow,  in  which  his  mind  at  last  re- 
poses after  his  daughters  have  been  brought  to  him,  is  as  moving  as 
any  thing  in  the  Greek  drama." 

"  The  '  Philoctetes'  is  a  most  noble  play  ;  conspicuous  even  among 
the  works  of  Sophocles  for  the  grace  and  majesty  of  effect  produced 
by  the  most  simple  means.  There  is  more  character  in  it  than  in 
any  play  in  the  Greek  language  ;  two  or  three  of  Euripides's  best  ex- 
cepted." 

"  The  first  half  of  the  '  Eumcnides  '  is  equal  to  any  thing  in  poetry. 
The  close  is  also  very  fine." 

"The  'Seven  against  Thebes'  is  a  noble  poem;  full  of  dramatic 
improprieties;  but  all  on  fire  with  the  finest  poetical  spirit.  —  October 
25th,  1835  (my  birthday). 

fiitl  Qvvai  rbv  airavra  vucq.  \6yov' 

TO  ft,  i-irii  (ftavy^ 
fifjvai  KiWfv,  oQevirfp  VIKII, 

SfVTtpOV,    <!>£    Ta\lOTO.,"* 


"  The  '  Agamemnon  '  is  indeed  very  fine.  From  the  king's  entrance 
into  the  house  to  the  appearance  on  the  stage  of  ^Egistheus,  it  is  be- 
yond all  praise.  I  shall  turn  it  over  again  next  week." 

To  the  "  Prometheus  "  are  appended  the  words,  "  One  of  the  great- 
est of  human  compositions." 

"  The  '  Orestes  '  is  one  of  the  very  finest  plays  in  the  Greek  lan- 
guage. Among  those  of  Euripides,  I  should  place  it  next  to  the 
'  Medea  '  and  the  '  Bacchae.'f  It  has  some  very  real  faults  ;  but  it  pos- 


*  "  The  happiest  destiny  is  never  to  have  been  born;  and  the  next  best,  by  far, 
is  to  return,  as  swiftly  as  may  be,  to  the  bourn  whence  we  came."  The  wound 
caused  by  his  sister  Margaret's  death  was  then  ten  months  old. 

t  Macaulay  ranked  the  plays  of  Euripides  thus:  The  "Medea;"  the  "Bac- 
chae;"  the  "Orestes;"  the  "Iphigenia  in  Aulis;"  the  "Alcestis;"  the  "Phoe- 
nissae;"  the  "Troades;"  the  "  Hippolytus." 


416  APPENDIX. 

sesses  that  strong  human  interest  which  neither  ^Eschylus  nor  Sopho- 
cles— poets  in  many  respects  far  superior  to  Euripides — ever  gave  to 
their  dramas.  '  Orestes '  and  '  Electra '  keep  a  very  strong  hold  on  our 
sympathy.  The  friendship  of  Pylades  is  more  amiably  represented 
here  than  anywhere  else.  Menelaus  keeps  the  character  which  the 
Athenian  dramatists  have  agreed  to  give  him.  The  sick -chamber 
scene,  and  the  scene  after  the  trial,  are  two  of  the  finest  things  in 
ancient  poetry.  When  Milton  designated  Euripides  'sad  Electra's 
poet,'  he  was  thinking  of  the  '  Orestes,'  I  suppose,  and  not  of  the 
4  Electra.'  Schlegel  says  (and  he  is  perfectly  right)  that  the  '  Electra ' 
is  Euripides's  worst  play.  It  is  quite  detestable." 

"  I  can  hardly  account  for  the  contempt  which,  at  school  and  col- 
lege, I  felt  for  Euripides.  I  own  that  I  like  him  now  better  than 
Sophocles.  The  '  Alcestis '  has  faults  enough  ;  but  there  are  scenes 
in  it  of  surpassing  beauty  and  tenderness.  The  choruses,  too,  are  very 
fine.  Fox  thought  it  the  best  of  Euripides's  plays.  I  can  not  like  it 
so  well  as  the  '  Medea.'  The  odious  baseness  of  Admetus,  in  accept- 
ing the  sacrifice  of  his  wife,  is  a  greater  drawback  than  even  the  ab- 
surd machinery.  Thomson  avoided  this  very  happily  in  his  imitation, 
by  making  Eleanora  suck  the  poison  while  Edward  is  sleeping." 

"The  'Bacchae'  is  a  most  glorious  play.  I  doubt  whether  it  be 
not  superior  to  the  '  Medea.'  It  is  often  very  obscure ;  and  I  am  not 
sure  that  I  fully  understand  its  general  scope.  But,  as  a  piece  of  lan- 
guage, it  is  hardly  equaled  in  the  world.  And,  whether  it  was  intend- 
ed to  encourage  or  to  discourage  fanaticism,  the  picture  of  fanatical 
excitement  which  it  exhibits  has  never  been  rivaled." 


END   OF   THE   FIRST   VOLUME. 


74 
V.I 


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